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Of  JOSE 


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MRS.  BURNETT'S  BOOKS. 


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LITTLE  LORD  FAUNTLEROY.  Illus- 
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SARA  CREWE;    or,   What    Happened    at 

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J  '   -v:    ...  [ 


JiJlp  - 

1   r 


XV„ 


And   then   she   would   take   the   guitar       * 


and    sit  out   in   the   little   garden 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE 


FRANCES  HODGSON  BURNETT 

AUTHOR     OP     "THAT     LASS     O'     LOWRIES,"     "  LITTLK     LORD 
FAUNTLEROY,"   ETC.,   ETC 


NEW  YORK 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

1889 


Copyright,  1889,  by 
FRANCES   HODGSON  BURNETT. 

[All  rights  reserved.] 


Press  of  J.  J.  Little  &  Co., 
Astor  Place,  New  York. 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

And  then  she  would   take  the  guitar  and  sit 
out  in  the  little  garden Frontispiece 

When  on  the  first  holiday  he  took  her  to  the 
public  gardens  with  jovita 16 

But  Sebastiano  was  addressing    the   president 
of  the  games 36 

Pepita  shook  the  small  stray  blossoms  out  of 

HER  HAIR 46 

"we  will  make  it  more  amusing,"  said  sebas- 
tiano,  eagerly 50 

she  leaned  against  the  side  of  the  well 68 

She  clasped  her  hands  behind  her  head 78 


803693 


iv  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 
PEPITA   SAT    DOWN   ON   TnE  THRESHOLD   AND   RESTED 

HER   HEAD   AGAINST    THE    SIDE   OF   THE    DOOR. ...       84 


....  and  fell  upon  the  altar  steps  shudder- 
ing and  sobbing  like  a  beaten  child 102 

In  but  a  few  moments  he  had  reached  it  and 
held  it  by  the  arm,  feeling  all  the  slen- 
der body  breathless  and  panting 112 

"  She  is  a  pretty  young  girl,"  they  said,  "not 
as  pretty  as  that  other." 114 

"  dlos  !  dios  !  "  he  murmured 124 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSfi. 


CHAPTER   I. 


It  had  taken  him  a  long  time,  and  it  had 
cost  him — Jose — much  hard  labor,  to  prepare 
for  his  aged  grandmother  and  Pepita  the  tiny 
home  outside  Madrid,  to  which  he  at  last 
brought  them  in  great  triumph  one  hot  sum- 
mer's day,  when  the  very  vine-leaves  and 
orange-trees  themselves  were  dusty.  It  had 
been  a  great  undertaking  for  him  in  the 
first  place,  for  he  was  a  slow  fellow — Jose ; 
slow  as  he  Avas  dull  and  kind  and  faithful 
to  Pepita  and  the  grandmother.  He  had  a 
body  as  big  as  an  ox,  and  a  heart  as  big  as 
his  body,  but  he  was  slow  and  dull  in  every- 
thing but  one  thing — that  was  his  carpenter 


2  THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

work.  lie  was  well  enough  at  that,  and 
more  than  well  enough,  for  he  had  always 
had  a  fancy  and  a  knack  for  it  from  the 
time  when  as  a  boy  he  had  worked  in  his 
uncle's  vineyards  and  tilled  his  fields  and 
fed  his  beasts.  His  uncle  had  been  counted 
a  rich  man  among  his  neighbors,  but  when 
his  sister  and  her  husband  died  and  left  the 
two  children,  Jose  and  Pepita,  penniless,  and 
with  no  protector  save  himself  and  their 
grandmother,  already  an  old  woman,  it  was 
upon  the  grandmother  that  the  burden  fell, 
for  he  did  nothing  for  them  except  to  give 
them,  grudgingly  now  and  then,  a  few  poor 
vegetables  or  a  little  fallen  fruit.  It  is  true 
that  when  Jose  was  old  enough  to  labor  in 
the  fields  he  gave  him  work  to  do,  but  he 
paid  him  ill  and  treated  him  ill  also,  giving 
him  poor  food  and  harsh  words,  and  often 
enough  blows  the  poor  lad  did  not  deserve. 
So  it  came  about  that  while  he  was  at  his 
work  Jose  fell  into  the  way  of  planning  to 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE.  3 

escape  from  all  this,  and  make  another  home 
for  himself  and  his  pretty  child-sister  and 
the  old  woman.  He  knew  there  was  only 
one  way  to  do  it :  if  he  could  carry  his  one 
gift  where  it  would  be  of  more  use  to  him 
than  it  could  possibly  be  in  a  poor  small 
village  :  if  he  could  carry  it  to  a  market 
where  there  were  more  people  and  where 
work  was  better  paid  for.  Where  the  king 
and  queen  were,  of  course,  there  must  be 
more  money,  and  one  could  find  more  to  do 
and  live  better.  It  was  Padre  Alejandro, 
the  village  priest,  who  had  suggested  this  to 
him  first.  He  was  a  kind,  jovial  old  fellow, 
the  padre,  and  had  seen  something  of  the 
world,  too,  long  ago,  which  was  perhaps 
why  he  was  never  very  hard  upon  a  simple 
sinner  who  went  to  confession,  and  could  give 
a  bit  of  unecclesiastical  advice  now  and  then. 
He  had  always  been  kind  to  Jose,  and  as 
Pepita  had  grown  prettier  and  prettier  every 
day,  he  had  often  spoken  of  her  to  old  Jovita, 


4  THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

and  said  she  should  be  well  taught  and  taken 
care  of,  and  once  even — when  she  had  come 
into  the  house  with  a  basket  of  grapes  on 
her  little  head,  rose-flushed  with  the  hot  day, 
her  black  hair  curling  in  moist  silken  rings 
on  her  forehead — he  had  been  betrayed  into 
the  worldly  remark  that  such  pretty  young- 
things  ought  to  have  something  brighter  to 
look  forward  to  than  hard  work  and  scant 
fare,  which  made  them  old  before  their  time, 
and  left  them  nothing  to  look  back  upon. 
But  he  only  said  it  to  Jovita,  and  Jovita 
only  stared  a  little,  it  never  having  occurred 
to  her  that  there  was  anything  much  in  the 
world  but  hard  labor  and  poverty.  And 
what  difference  did  it  make  that  one  was 
pretty,  except  that  it  became  more  probable 
that  some  gay,  lazy  fellow  would  pretend 
to  fall  in  love  with  one,  and  then  after  mar- 
riage leave  one  all  the  work  to  do  and  a 
houseful  of  hungry  children  to  feed  ?  She 
had   seen   that   often   enough.     Had  it  not 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE.         5 

been  so  with  Pepita's  mother,  who  died  at 
twenty-five  almost  an  old  woman,  worn  out 
with  trouble  and  hard  usage  ? 

But  afterward,  when  Padre  Alejandro 
saw  Jose,  he  spoke  of  Pepita  to  him  also, 
though  only  as  if  incidentally  among  other 
things. 

"  She  should  marry  some  good  fellow  who 
could  take  care  of  her,"  he  said.  "  If  you 
go  to  Madrid  it  will  also  be  better  for  her." 

And  so  the  end  of  it  all  was  that  after 
much  slow  planning  and  many  hopes  and 
fears,  and  more  than  one  disappointment, 
there  came  a  day  when  the  uncle  was  thrown 
into  a  violent  rage  by  losing  his  best  and 
most  patient  worker,  and  the  poor  cottage 
stood  empty,  and  Jose  and  Pepita  and  Jovita 
found  themselves  in  a  new  world. 

What  a  new  world  it  seemed  to  them  all ! 
Through  the  help  of  Padre  Alejandro  and 
an  old  friend  of  his,  Jose  had  work  bringing 
him  pay  which  appeared  absolute  wealth  to 


6  THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

him.  The  cottage,  with  its  good  walls  and 
roof,  its  neat  rooms  and  garden,  being  com- 
pared with  the  mere  hut  they  had  left  be- 
hind, seemed  a  palace.  For  the  first  few 
days,  indeed,  Jovita  was  scarce  at  ease ;  to 
feel  no  necessity  for  heavy  labor,  to  have 
food  enough,  to  be  so  comfortable,  seemed 
unnatural,  as  if  it  might  finally  bring  dis- 
aster. But  it  was  not  so  with  Pepita.  All 
the  joy  of  youth,  all  its  delights  and  expec- 
tations filled  her  heart.  To  be  so  near  the 
great,  grand  city,  to  look  forward  to  seeing 
all  its  splendors,  to  walk  in  its  streets,  to 
share  in  the  amusements  she  had  heard  of — 
this  was  rapture.  If  she  had  been  pretty 
before,  she  became  now  ten  times  prettier; 
her  lovely  eyes  grew  larger  writh  laughter 
and  wonder  and  joy ;  her  light  feet  almost 
danced ;  her  color  was  like  that  of  a  damask 
rose.  Each  day  brought  new  innocent  hap- 
piness to  her.  When  Jose  came  home  from 
his  work  at  night,  she  sat  by  his  side  and 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.  7 

asked  him  a  thousand  questions.  Had  he 
seen  the  palace — had  he  seen  the  king  or 
the  queen — what  were  the  people  doing — 
were  the  public  gardens  beautiful?  x\nd 
then  she  would  take  the  guitar,  which  had 
belonged  to  her  gay  father  in  his  gavest 
days,  and  sit  out  in  the  little  garden,  among 
the  vines  and  lemon-trees  and  oleanders,  and 
play  and  sing  one  song  after  another,  wiiile 
Jose  smoked  and  rested,  and  wondered  at 
and  delighted  in  her.  It  was  she  who  had 
inherited  all  her  father's  gayety  and  spirit. 
Jose  had  none  of  them,  and,  being  slow  and 
simple,  had  always  found  her  a  wonder  and  a 
strange  pleasure.  She  had,  indeed,  been  the 
one  bright  thing  in  his  life,  and  even  her 
wilfulness  had  a  charm  for  him.  He  always 
gave  way  to  it  and  was  content.  Had  she 
not  even  once  defied  the  uncle  when  no  one 
else  would  have  dared  to  do  it  ?  holding  her 
little  head  up  and  confronting  him  in  such  a 
burst  of  pretty  rage  that  the  old  curmudgeon 


8  THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

had  been  quite  quelled  for  once  in  his  life, 
and  had  ever  afterward  treated  her  with  a 
kind  of  respect,  even  saying  to  a  neighbor 
that  "  the  lad  was  a  fool,  but  the  little  devil 
had  something  in  her,  after  all." 

In  all  his  plannings  it  was  Pepita  Jose  had 
thought  of  first.  Madrid  to  him  was  only  a 
sort  of  setting  for  Pepita ;  the  clean,  com- 
fortable cottage  a  home  for  Pepita ;  the  roses 
and  lemon  blossoms  she  would  wear  in  her 
hair ;  under  the  fine  grape-vines  she  would 
sit  in  the  evening  and  play  on  her  guitar. 
His  wages  would  give  her  comfort  and  buy 
her  pretty  simple  dresses.  And  then  every 
one  would  see  her  beauty,  and  when  she  went 
to  mass,  or  with  himself  and  Jovita  to  the 
Prado  or  the  Paseo  de  la  Yirgen  del  Puerto, 
people  would  look  at  her  and  tell  each  other 
how  pretty  she  was,  and  all  this  would  end 
in  time  in  a  good  marriage  perhaps.  And 
she  would  be  loved  by  some  nice  fellow,  and 
have  a  home  of  her  own,  and  be  as  happy  as 


TEE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE.         9 

the  day  was  long.  There  was  only  one 
obstacle  in  the  way  of  this  excellent  plan ; 
it  was  only  a  small  obstacle,  but — it  was 
Pepita  herself!  Singularly  enough,  Pepita 
had  a  fixed  antipathy  to  marriage.  She  had 
early  announced  her  intention  of  remaining 
unmarried,  and  those  young  men  who  in  her 
native  village  had  desired  to  make  love  to 
her  had  been  treated  with  disapproval  and 
disdain.  Knowing  as  little  of  love  as  a  young 
bird  unfledged,  her  coldness  was  full  of  inno- 
cent cruelty.  She  made  no  effort  to  soften 
any  situation.  She  was  willing  to  dance 
and  laugh  and  sing,  but  when  she  found 
herself  confronting  lover-like  tremors  and 
emotion,  she  was  unsparing  candor  itself. 

"  Why  should  I  listen  to  you  1  "  she  had 
said  more  than  once.  "  I  do  not  love  you. 
You  do  not  please  me.  When  you  wish  to 
marry  me,  I  hate  you.  Go  away,  and  speak 
to  some  one  else." 

"  I  will  never  marry  any  one,"  she  said  to 


10       THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

Jose.  "  I  will  stay  with  you  and  be  happy. 
Girls  who  marry  grow  ugly  and  are  wretch- 
ed. Their  husbands  do  not  love  them  after 
they  are  married.  They  must  work  and 
slave  and  take  care  of  the  house  and  the 
children.  Look  at  Tessa !  Her  husband 
used  to  be  wild  about  her.  She  could  make 
him  pale  with  misery  if  she  turned  away 
from  him  ;  he  used  to  follow  her  about  every- 
where. Now  he  makes  eyes  at  Juanita,  and 
beats  Tessa  if  she  complains.  And  don't  we 
both  remember  how  it  was  with  our  mother? 
I  will  never  love  any  one,  and  never  be  mar- 
ried. Let  them  love  me  if  they  are  so  stupid, 
but  I  will  be  left  alone.  I  care  nothing  for 
any  of  them/' 

The  truth  is  that  Jose  knew  it  was  what 
she  remembered  of  her  mother's  imhappiness 
and  what  Jovita  had  told  her,  which  was  the 
foundation  of  all  this.  Did  he  not  remember 
it  himself,  and  remember,  with  a  shudder, 
those  first  miserable  years  of  their  childhood 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.        \\ 

— the  great,  beautiful,  wretched  eyes  of  their 
mother,  their  gay,  handsome  father,  and  his 
careless  cruelty  and  frequent  brutality  ?  Had 
not  Pepita  and  himself  clung  together  hid- 
den in  the  loft  at  night,  listening  to  their 
mother's  sobs,  and  often  to  the  sound  of 
blows  and  curses  rained  down  upon  her  be- 
cause she  was  no  longer  a  beauty,  and  there 
were  beauties  who  had  smiles  to  bestow  on 
handsome  fellows  who  were  free,  and  even 
upon  those  who  were  not  \  It  was  enough 
to  irritate  any  handsome  fellow — this  one 
had  thought — to  come  home  to  a  squalid 
place  after  enjoyment,  and  be  forced  to  face 
poverty  and  children  and  a  haggard  wife 
with  large  staring  eyes,  red  with  weeping. 
Yes,  Pepita  and  Jose  remembered  all  this, 
and  upon  Pepita's  character  it  had  left  curi- 
ous traces.  Young  as  she  was,  she  had 
awakened  quite  grand  passions  in  more  than 
one  heart,  and  on  two  or  three  occasions  the 
suitors  had  been  of  far  better  fortune  than 


12        THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

herself — one  of  them,  indeed,  being  the  only 
son  of  a  rich  farmer,  who  might  have  chosen 
a  wife  of  much  greater  importance  than  this 
pretty,  scornful  child,  and  whose  family  re- 
belled bitterly  against  his  folly,  and  at  last 
sent  him  away  to  Seville,  but  not  before 
Pepita  herself  had  coolly  trodden  him  under 
her  small  feet. 

"  I  like  you  less  than  any  of  them,"  she 
said,  fixing  her  great,  direct  eyes  upon  him 
when  he  revealed  his  frenzy.  "  Go  and 
marry  that  girl  your  father  chose  for  you — 
if  she  will  have  you.  They  have  no  need  to 
be  afraid  and  speak  ill  of  me.  I  don't  want 
you.  I  can't  bear  to  have  you  stand  near 
me." 

To  Jose  it  never  occurred  to  complain  of 
her,  but  Jovita's  sense  of  worldly  advantage 
was  outraged  at  this  time,  and  she  did  not 
hesitate  to  express  herself  with  much  free- 
dom and  grumbling. 

"  God  knows,  I  want  no  haste,"  she  said ; 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.        13 

"  but  this  is  a  chance  for  any  girl.  And 
see  what  a  fool  she  is.  But  that  is  as  it 
always  happens.  There  will  come  along 
some  worthless  fellow,  and  she  will  be  fooled 
like  the  rest,  and  be  ready  enough  to  run 
after  him." 

"  I ! "  said  Pepita,  who  stood  in  the  door- 
way. "  I ! "  And  she  opened  her  dark  eyes 
in  genuine  anger  and  amazement. 

"  Yes,  you,"  answered  Jo  vita.  "  And  you 
will  be  worse  than  any  of  them.  Girls  who 
think  themselves  too  good  to  be  spoken  to 
are  always  easiest  to  coax  when  they  find 
their  match.  Let  him  come,  and  you'll  drop 
like  a  ripe  grape." 

"  He  will  never  come,"  said  Pepita. 
"  Clever !  "  And  there  was  not  a  shade  of 
doubt  in  her  look — nothing  but  cold  indiff- 
nation  at  Jovita's  ill-humor.  "  I  am  not 
afraid  of  men.  They  are  all  stupid.  They 
think  they  can  have  anything  they  want, 
and  they  can  have  nothing.     They  have  to 


14       THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

ask,  and  it  is  the  girls  who  can  say  'No;' 
and  then  thev  are  miserable,  and  beg  and 
beg  until  one  detests  them.  If  any  one  said 
'  No '  to  me,  I  would  not  let  them  see  it 
hurt  me.     They  should  think  I  did  not  care." 

"  You  will  not  always  say  '  No,' "  grumbled 
Jovita.  "  Wait  till  the  day  for  <  Yes ' 
comes.  You'll  say  it  fast  enough.  That's 
the  way  with  women." 

A  bewitching  little  smile  slowly  curved 
Pepita's  lips  and  crept  into  her  eyes. 

"  I  am  not  a  woman,"  she  said,  looking 
out  at  the  sun-warmed  vineyards.  "  lie  said 
so  himself.  Felipe  said,  '  You  are  not  a 
woman  ;  you  are  a  witch,  and  no  one  can 
touch  your  heart  or  conquer  you.'  I  will  be 
a  witch." 

Secretly  she  had  liked  those  words  better 
than  any  of  the  adoring  praises  she  had 
heard  before.  She  liked  the  su^orestion  that 
she  was  invincible  and  safe  from  all  danger 
— to  be  a  witch — to  be  free  from  all  this  dis- 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.        15 

astrous  folly — to  be  unconquerable.  Yes, 
that  pleased  her.  It  was  not  her  fault  that 
they  would  fall  in  love  with  her.  What 
did  she  do  to  them  ?  Nothing.  She  never 
allowed  them  to  come  near  her  or  touch  her  ; 
she  never  gave  them  tender  glances  or  words. 
She  laughed  and  was  Pepita — that  was  all. 
Then  it  was  no  fault  of  hers. 

And  yet  her  little  heart  was  warm  enough. 
She  loved  Jose  passionately ;  she  loved  Jo- 
vita;  she  loved  little  children  and  animals, 
and  they  loved  her  in  return ;  old  men  and 
women  adored  her  because  of  her  simple, 
almost  childish  kindness  and  her  readiness  to 
help  those  who  needed  her  young  strength 
and  bright  spirit.  It  was  only  men  who 
made  love  who  were  shown  no  mercy.  She 
did  not  know  that  they  needed  mercy.  She 
did  not  understand — that  was  all.  It  was  as 
Jose  had  known  it  would  be.  When  on  the 
first  holiday  he  took  her  to  the  public  gar- 
dens with  Jovita,  every  one  who  passed  them 


16        THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

gave  her  a  second  look ;  many  turned  to 
watch  her;  certainly  there  was  not  a  man 
who  did  not  glance  over  his  shoulder  at  the 
bewitching  girlish  figure  with  the  small 
round  waist,  at  the  piquant  radiant  face,  at 
the  well-carried  little  head  with  the  red  rose 
blooming  in  its  cloud  of  soft  black  hair.  It 
was  not  long  before  two  or  three  who  were 
Jose's  fellow-workmen  sought  him  out  and 
greeted  him  with  great  warmth.  They  had, 
it  appeared,  a  great  deal  to  say  and  many 
attentions  to  lavish  upon  him.  Such  a  fine 
fellow,  this  Jose — such  a  good  fellow — such 
a  workman  -as  was  seldom  seen  in  Madrid. 
And  what  a  fine  day  for  pleasure.  And  the 
Paseo  de  la  Virgen  del  Puerto — there  never 
were  such  gardens  for  sport.  And  all  the 
time  each  one  looked  at  Pepita,  and  lucky 
indeed  was  the  man  with  mother  and  sisters 
to  help  him  to  make  friends.  And  never 
had  old  Jovita  met  with  such  civilities,  and 
encountered  such  deference.     Pepita  had  the 


;;v  ,i^f\€? 


When   on   the   first   holiday    he   took    her   to   the   public   gardens    with   Jovita. 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE.        17 

joy  of  a  young  bird  in  its  first  flight.  The 
air  of  gayety  enlivening  everything,  the 
people  in  their  holiday  clothes,  the  blue  sky, 
the  sunshine,  the  cheap  simple  pleasures  of 
the  day,  were  intoxicating  delights  to  her. 
She  made  friends  with  the  girls  and  their 
parents,  and  was  even  gracious  to  the  young 
men  who  hung  about  Jose,  and  somehow 
seemed  to  find  his  neighborhood  more  attrac- 
tive than  any  other.  It  was  from  one  of 
these  young  men  (his  name  was  Manuel) 
she  first  heard  of  Sebastiano — the  gay,  the 
wonderful,  the  renowned  Sebastiano.  He 
had  asked  her,  this  Manuel,  if  she  was  going 
to  the  Plaza  de  Toros  to  see  the  bull-fight 
the  following  week,  and  when  she  said  she 
did  not  know — that  she  had  never  seen  a 
bull-fight — he  found  a  great  deal  to  say.  He 
described  the  wonders  of  the  great  bull  ring, 
where  twelve  thousand  people  could  be  ac- 
commodated, and  where  grand  and  beautiful 
ladies  richly  dressed  and  surrounded  by  their 


18        THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

lovers  and  husbands  uttered  cries  of  joy  and 
excitement  as  the  fight  became  more  danger- 
ous, and  both  bulls  and  toreadors  showed 
greater  courage  and  fire ;  he  described  the 
costumes,  the  music,  the  picadors  dashing  in 
upon  their  horses ;  the  banderilleros  with 
their  darts  and  ribbons ;  the  matador  with 
his  reckless  daring,  his  nerves  and  muscles  of 
steel,  and  his  lightning  leaps.  And  then  he 
described  Sebastiano.  Never  before,  it  ap- 
peared from  his  enthusiasm,  had  Madrid 
known  such  a  matador  as  Sebastiano.  Never 
one  so  handsome,  so  dashing,  so  universally 
adored.  When  he  appeared  in  the  ring,  what 
a  roar  of  applause  went  up.  When  he  made 
his  proud  bow  to  the  president,  and  said, 
"  I  go  to  slay  this  bull  for  the  honor  of  the 
people  of  Madrid  and  the  most  excellent 
president  of  this  tourney,"  and  threw  his  hat 
away  and  moved  forward,  waving  his  scar- 
let cloak,  what  excitement  there  was  awak- 
ened.    Songs  were  sung   about  him  in  the 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.       19 

streets,  fans  were  ornamented  with  pictures 
of  his  daring  deeds,  there  were  stories  of 
great  ladies  who  had  wept  their  eyes  out  for 
love  of  him,  and  as  to  the  women  of  his  own 
class,  there  was  not  a  girl  in  Madrid  who  did 
not  dream  of  him. 

"Why?"  said  Pepita,  in  her  cold,  soft 
voice,  and  with  the  simply  cold  and  curious 
look  in  her  great,  richly  lashed  eyes. 

"  Because  they  are  in  love  with  him — all 
of  them,"  replied  Manuel,  sweepingly. 

"  Why  ? "  said  Pepita,  again. 

" '  Why  ? '  "  Manuel  echoed,  somewhat  be- 
wildered by  the  frank,  indifferent  ignoring 
of  all  natural  reasons  in  this  question — 
" '  why  ? '  Because  he  is  so  tall  and  strong 
and  well  made,  because  he  is  handsome, 
because  he  is  more  daring  and  graceful  than 
any  of  the  others — because  he  is  Sebastiano." 

Pepita  laughed,  and  opened  and  shut  her 
fan  quickly. 

"  Why  do  you  laugh  ? "  inquired  Manuel. 


20       THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

"I  was  thinking  how  he  must  despise 
them,"  she  answered. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Manuel,  who  was  not  very 
clever;  "he  is  always  good  to  women. 
There  was  Sarita — a  poor  little  thing  who 
had  always  lived  in  the  country.  She  saw 
him  at  her  first  bull-fight  and  was  never 
happy  afterward.  She  could  think  of  noth- 
ing else,  and  she  was  too  innocent  to  hide  it. 
She  used  to  slip  away  from  home  and  con- 
trive to  follow  him  when  he  did  not  see  her. 
She  found  a  woman  who  knew  some  one 
who  knew  him,  and  she  gave  her  all  her 
little  savings  in  presents  to  bribe  her  to  be 
her  friend  and  talk  to  her  about  him.  Once 
or  twice  she  met  him,  and  because  she  was 
such  a  pretty  little  one,  he  spoke  kindly  to 
her  and  praised  her  eyes  and  her  dancing. 
He  did  not  know  she  was  in  love  with  him." 

Pepita  laughed  again. 

' '  Why  do  you  do  that  ? "  Manuel  asked. 

"  He  knew,"  said  Pepita.      "  He  would 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.       21 

think  she  was,  even  if  she  cared  nothing  for 
him,  and  since  she  did  care  he  would  know 
before  she  did  and  would  be  proud  of  it,  and 
make  it  as  much  worse  as  he  could." 

Manuel  gazed  at  her  a  moment  in  silence, 
twirling  his  rather  small  mustache.  This 
beautiful,  cool,  mocking  little  person,  the 
melting  softness  of  whose  eyes  and  lips 
should  have  promised  such  feminine  tender- 
ness and  emotion,  bewildered  him  greatly ; 
it  was  plain  that  she  was  wholly  unmoved 
by  the  glories  of  Sebastiano,  and  saw  no 
glamour  in  his  romances.  What  other  girl 
would  have  asked  "  Why  ? " — and  in  that 
tone?  It  was  difficult  to  go  on  with  his 
story. 

"  He  could  not  help  it  that  she  was  in  love 
with  him,"  he  said.  "  And  she  could  not 
help  it." 

"  Why  %  "  inquired  Pepita  for  the  third 
time,  and  with  a  prettier  coolness  than 
before. 


22       THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

"Why,"  stammered  Manuel,  "because — 
because  that  is  the  way  with  all  of  them." 

Pepita  showed  all  her  little  gleaming  teeth, 
and  then  put  the  stem  of  a  rose  between 
them  and  held  it  there  like  a  cigarette  as  she 
looked  under  her  eyelashes  at  the  people. 
The  rose  was  not  as  red  as  her  scornful  little 
mouth. 

"  He  was  always  kind  to  her  when  he  saw 
her,"  continued  Manuel.  "  Once  he  gave  her 
his  devisa.  When  she  died  she  held  it  in 
her  hand  and  would  not  let  it  go.  It  was 
buried  with  her.  She  was  a  pretty  child — 
Sarita — but  she  had  always  lived  in  the 
country  and  knew  nothing." 

"  I  have  always  lived  in  the  country  and  I 
know  nothing,"  said  Pepita,  mocking  him 
with  her  great  eyes ;  "  but  I  can  help  any- 
thing I  choose.  It  should  be  the  others  who 
cannot  help  it." 

She  thought  him  dull  and  tiresome,  and 
soon  wished  he  would  go  away,  but  he  could 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.        23 

not  help  it,  and  lingered  about  with  all  sorts 
of  stupid  excuses.  The  more  she  bewildered 
him,  the  more  he  was  fascinated.  It  was 
almost  enough  to  stand  and  stare  at  her  and 
hear  her  voice  as  she  talked  to  the  others. 
How  pretty  she  was — that  girl — how  she 
held  her  head  as  if  she  was  some  high-born 
lady  instead  of  a  peasant !  When  some 
passer-by,  more  bold  than  the  rest,  made 
(loud  enough  to  be  heard)  some  comment 
upon  her  beauty,  it  did  not  disturb  her  in  the 
least — it  was  as  if  it  were  nothing  to  her. 
Was  it  possible  that  there  could  live  a  girl 
who  did  not  care  that  she  was  so  pretty? 
But  to  imagine  that  she  did  not  care  was  to 
make  a  great  mistake — she  cared  very  much. 
Ever  since  she  had  been  a  tiny  child,  her 
little  mirror  and  the  water  of  the  fountain 
had  reflected  back  to  her  this  pretty  face, 
with  its  soft  rose  of  cheek  and  mouth,  its 
dark  liquid  eyes,  and  soft  babyish  rings  of 
hair   curling-  on    the    forehead.      She   had 


24        THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

always  heard  too  that  she  was  pretty,  and  as 
she  had  grown  older  she  had  found  out  some- 
thing else,  namely,  that  she  had  a  power 
more  strong  and  subtle  than  that  of  her 
beauty — a  power  people  did  not  even  try  to 
resist.  She  did  not  call  it  by  any  name  her- 
self or  understand  it  in  the  least.  She  often 
wondered  at  it,  and  even  sometimes  had  a 
childish  secret  terror  lest  the  Evil  One  might 
have  something  to  do  with  it;  particularly 
when  without  making  any  effort,  when 
simply  standing  apart  and  looking  on  at  the 
rest,  with  a  little  smile  she  had  drawn  to  her 
side  the  stupid  love-making  for  which  she 
cared  nothing.  It  was  not  so  with  Dolores 
and  Maria  and  Isabella,  who  were  pretty  too. 
Somehow,  handsome  as  they  were,  they 
must  use  their  eyes  on  their  lovers,  they  must 
laugh  and  dance  and  talk  to  be  adored,  while 
she  need  do  nothing  but  be  Pepita. 

When,  late  that  evening,  she  sat  with  Jose 
under  the  vines,  the  air  about  them  heavy 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE.       25 

with  jasmine  and  orange  and  lemon  blos- 
soms, she  asked  a  great  many  questions 
about  the  bull-fight.  It  must  be  a  grand 
thing  to  see — so  many  people,  such  gay 
colors,  such  music.  Jose  could  describe  it 
better  than  Manuel.  He  must  tell  her  all 
about  it. 

He  described  it  as  well  as  he  could,  and  in 
spite  of  his  slow  speech  made  quite  an  excit- 
ing picture  for  her;  or  rather  she  found  it 
exciting,  as  she  found  all  things  just  now 
in  their  novelty.  Before  Jovita  and  she  had 
arrived,  while  he  wTas  making  his  small  prep- 
arations for  them,  he  had  seen  a  bull-fight 
or  so,  and  no  point  of  detail  had  escaped  his 
deliberate  mind.  He  always  remembered 
things — Jose. 

"  But  you  shall  go,"  he  said  ;  "  you  shall 
go  and  see  for  yourself  the  very  next  time. 
It  comes  next  week.  We  will  go  and  take 
Jovita." 

Pepita  clapped  her  hands  for  joy.     She 


2G       THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSfi. 

sprang  up  and  danced  a  few  steps  in  her 
childish  delight. 

"  That  will  be  happiness,"  she  said. 
"What  happiness!  Perhaps  the  king  and 
queen  will  be  there  ! " 

"  You  will  see  Sebastiano,"  said  Jose, 
seriously. 

"  I  do  not  care  for  Sebastiano,"  cried 
Pepita,  petulantly. 

"  You  do  not  care,"  said  Jose,  in  blank 
amaze,  "  for  Sebastiano  ?   You  do  not  care  ? " 

Pepita  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  They  talk  too  much  of  him,"  she  an- 
swered, "  and  he  is  too  vain.  He  thinks  all 
women  are  in  love  with  him,  and  that  if  a 
girl  comes  from  the  country  she  knows 
nothing,  and  will  die  of  love  if  she  only  sees 
him." 

"  I  did  not  know  that,"  said  Jose,  staring. 
"  I  never  heard  them  say  so.  They  call  him 
a  fine  fellow." 

"  I   never    heard   them    say   so,"    Pepita 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.       27 

answered  scornfully  ;  "  but  I  know  it.  I  am 
sure  he  is  a  fool,''  which  remark  caused  Jose 
much  bewilderment,  and  led  him  to  reflect 
long  and  deeply,  but  did  not,  however,  lead 
him  to  any  conclusion  but  that  Pepita  was 
ruled  by  one  of  her  caprices.  He  was  rather 
afraid  to  admit  that  he  himself  had  enjoyed 
the  magnificent  honor  of  seeing  this  great 
hero  out  of  the  ring ;  that  through  a  quite 
miraculous  favor  he  had  even  been  allowed 
to  speak  to  him  and  to  hear  him  speak  as 
he  stood,  the  centre  of  a  circle  of  admirers 
in  a  wine-shop.  He  had  been  saving  this  to 
tell  Pepita,  but  now  he  thought  it  well  to 
save  it  a  little  longer. 

But  when  the  day  of  the  bull-fight  arrived 
it  was  not  possible  to  conceal  it. 

Ah!  the  wonders,  the  splendors  of  that 
day  from  the  first  hour  !  At  its  very  dawn- 
ing Pepita  was  up  and  singing.  Jovita  must 
take  her  rest,  that  she  might  be  in  her  best 
humor  to  enjoy  the  festivities,  and  not  spoil 


28       THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

them  by  grumbling.  Pepita  needed  no  rest ; 
her  little  feet  danced  as  she  moved ;  as  she 
made  her  preparations  for  the  morning  meal 
she  chatted  incessantly  to  Jose,  asking  a 
thousand  questions.  Everything  conspired 
to  add  to  her  joys.  The  sky  was  deep  bril- 
liant blue,  but  there  was  a  light  breeze  to 
make  the  heat  bearable ;  the  birds  sang  until 
their  little  throats  throbbed ;  the  flowers  in. 
the  garden  seemed  to  have  flung  out  new 
masses  of  bloom  to  make  the  small  world 
about  them  brighter.  In  her  chamber,  near 
the  roof,  Pepita's  gala  dress  lay  upon  her 
bed,  her  new  little  shoes  upon  the  floor ;  she 
had  seen  them  in  the  moonlight  each  time 
she  had  awakened  in  the  night.  A  year  ago 
it  would  not  have  seemed  possible  that  such 
pretty  fineiy  could  ever  be  hers,  even  in 
dreams ;  but  now  almost  anything  seemed 
possible  in  this  new  and  enchanting  life. 

And  when  she  was  dressed  how  bewitch- 
ing she  was !  how  her  rose  of  a  face  glowed 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.        29 

and  dimpled  !  how  enchanting  was  the  vel- 
vet darkness  of  her  eyes !  how  airy  the  poise 
of  her  little  black  head,  with  its  brilliant 
flower  tucked  in  at  the  side  of  the  knot  of 
curly  hair !  Jo  vita  stared  at  her  and  made 
a  queer  half-internal  sound  of  exclamation. 
It  was  not  her  way  to  express  approval  at 
all  freely,  and  she  had  no  opinion  of  people 
who  wasted  time  in  telling  girls  they  were 
pretty.  But  Jose  looked  at  the  girl  as  he 
might  have  looked  at  some  rare  tropical  bird 
which  had  suddenly  flown  into  the  house. 
He  looked  and  looked  again,  pulling  his 
mustache,  his  not  always  alert  face  warming. 

"  Yes,  yes,''  he  said,  "  it  all  looks  very 
well ;  that  dress  is  pretty.  None  of  the 
other  girls  will  look  better.  Even  Can- 
dida—" 

Pepita  laughed.  Candida  had  been  con- 
sidered a  great  beauty  in  the  village  they 
had  left,  but  she  knew  she  was  prettier  than 
Candida. 


30       THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

Jose  laughed  also,  though  he  scarcely 
knew  why.  Then  with  rather  a  cautious 
and  uncertain  air  he  produced  a  gay  fan — a 
cheap  one,  but  brilliant  with  color. 

"  This—  "  he  began. 

Pepita  caught  it  from  him,  and  unfurled  it 
with  a  quick  turn  of  her  wrist.  On  one  side 
was  a  picture — a  clashing  erect  figure,  in  a 
richly  hued  costume. 

"  It  is  Sebastiano,"  said  Jose,  guiltily. 

Pepita  nodded  her  head  and  smiled. 

"  I  knew  it,"  she  said  ;  "  I  knew  he  would 
look  like  that." 

"  There  is  no  other  man  who  can  slay  a 
bull  as  he  can,"  said  Jose. 

aLet  him  slaj7  them,"  answered  Pepita. 
And  she  stood  and  waved  her  fan  with  the 
prettiest  inscrutable  air  in  the  world. 

The  journey  to  the  Plaza  de  Toros  was 
almost  as  delightful  as  the  bull-fight  itself 
to  Pepita.  The  streaming  crowds  of  people, 
all  bent  in  one  direction,  and  all   in  their 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.       31 

gayest  dress  and  mood,  laughing,  jostling 
each  other,  chatting,  exchanging  salutations 
and  jokes,  the  grand  carriages  rolling  by 
with  fine  ladies  and  gentlemen  in  them,  the 
rattling  old  diligences,  omnibuses,  and  tarta- 
nes,  whose  passengers  seemed  more  hilarious 
than  the  occupants  of  the  more  splendid 
equipages,  the  ringing  of  mule  bells,  the 
shouts  of  drivers,  the  cracking  whips,  the 
sunshine,  the  color,  the  very  dust  itself,  all 
added  to  the  excitement  of  the  hour.  And 
as  they  made  their  way  through  the  throng, 
it  was  again  as  it  had  been  that  first  Sunday 
at  the  Paseo  de  la  Yirgen  del  Puerto,  heads 
turned  and  exclamations  were  uttered  when 
Pepita  went  by.  And  somehow  it  seemed 
that  Jose  was  better  known  than  even  he 
himself  had  imagined,  he  received  so  many 
greetings.  The  truth  was  that  already  those 
who  had  seen  the  girl  had  spoken  of  her 
among  themselves  and  to  others,  their 
readily   fired    Spanish    natures   aflame   and 


32       THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

elate.  And  those  who  had  not  seen,  but 
only  heard  of  her,  were  in  as  susceptible  a 
condition  as  the  more  fortunate  ones.  She 
had  been  graphically  and  dramatically  de- 
scribed again  and  again,  so  that  by  many  a 
one  she  was  recognized  as  "  the  pretty  sister 
of  Jose." 

That  was  what  they  called  her — "the 
pretty  sister  of  Jose."  She  heard  it  half  a 
dozen  times,  but  never  once  even  so  much  as 
lifted  her  long  lashes.  She  was  so  used  to 
admiration  that  it  was  as  if  they  spoke  of 
some  one  else,  and  it  moved  her  not  in  the 
least,  as  she  sat  watching  the  bulls,  to  know 
that  bold  or  languishing  eyes  dwelt  upon 
her  face,  and  that  efforts  were  being  con- 
stantly made  to  attract  her  attention. 

It  was  a  magnificent  day — every  one  said 
so;  there  were  splendid  bulls  and  splendid 
dresses,  and  the  fighters  were  in  superb  con- 
dition. The  people  were  in  good  spirits  too 
— the  little  breeze  tempering  the  heat  had, 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.       33 

perhaps,  something  to  do  with  it.  Every- 
thing- pleased  them  ;  they  applauded  wildly, 
and  uttered  shouts  of  encouragement  and 
delight  to  bulls  and  toreadors  alike.  The 
grand  people  were  richly  attired  ;  beautiful 
ladies  watched  with  excited  eyes  the  bulls, 
wearing  their  colors  in  rosettes  of  satin  and 
glittering  tinsel ;  the  thousands  of  waving, 
brilliantly  hued  fans  fluttered  like  a  swarm 
of  butterflies  ;  the  music  filled  the  air.  Pe- 
pita  sat  in  a  dream  of  joy,  the  color  coming 
and  going  on  her  cheeks,  her  rapture  glow- 
ing in  her  eyes.  She  was  a  Spanish  girl, 
and  not  so  far  in  advance  of  her  age  that 
the  terrible  features  of  the  pastime  going  on 
before  her  could  obscure  its  brilliancy  and 
excitement.  Truth  to  tell,  she  entirely  for- 
got Sebastiano,  not  even  recognizing  him  in 
the  pageant  of  the  grand  entry,  she  was  so 
absorbed  in  its  glitter  and  blaze  of  color. 
But  at  the  killing  of  the  bull,  that  was 

different.      Just  a  moment  before  she  had 
3 


34       THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

awakened  to  the  fact  that  Manuel  was  near 
her — near  enough  to  speak.  He  had  been 
staring  at  her,  and  growing  more  restless 
every  moment,  until  he  had  at  last  attracted 
the  attention  of  Jose  and  Jovita,  and  his  first 
words  to  her  came  amid  shouts  of  applause 
and  delight. 

"  Sebastiano,"  he  said  ;  "  it  is  Sebastiano." 
Pepita  turned  to  look.  With  what  a  proud 
and  careless  air  he  advanced;  with  what  a 
strong,  light  step ;  how  he  held  his  head 
and  shoulders  ;  how  his  gold  and  silver  gar- 
nishings  glittered  ;  how  the  people  called  to 
him  with  a  sort  of  caressing  ecstasy  !  They 
adored  him  ;  he  was  their  idol.  Yes,  there 
was  a  thrill  in  it,  even  for  her  cold  heart. 
She  felt  a  quick  pulsation.  To  be  so  proud 
and  triumphant  and  daring — to  be  the  cen- 
tral point  of  everything — to  be  able  to 
awake  this  exultant  fervor — was  something 
after  all.  And  he  was  beautiful  too,  though 
she  cared   nothing  for  that,  except   as  she 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.        35 

could  see  that  it  added  to  his  triumphs  and 
made  them  more  complete.  His  athletic 
grace  of  bearing,  his  dark,  spirited  face,  with 
its  passionate  Andalusian  eyes,  their  shadows 
intensified  by  the  close,  long  black  lashes,  the 
very  arch  of  his  foot,  and  superb  movement 
of  his  limbs,  would  have  set  him  apart  from 
ordinary,  less  fortunate  mortals  ;  but  to  have 
all  this  and  be  also  the  demi-god  -of  these 
impassioned  people,  it  must  be  worth  living 
for.  If  one  cared  for  men,  if  one  did  not 
find  them  tiresome,  if  one  was  simple  enough 
— like  Sarita — to  be  carried  away  by  things, 
there  was  at  least  something  in  all  this  to  in- 
terest one  a  little. 

"  It  is  Sebastiano,"  said  Jose. 

But  Sebastiano  was  addressing  the  presi- 
dent of  the  games.  He  extended  his  glitter- 
ing  sword,  and  made  his  announcement  in  a 
clear,  rich  voice.  Pepita  listened  as  he  spoke. 
And  then  the  most  thrilling  excitement  of 
the  sport   began.     It   was   no  child's    play 


30        THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

Sebastiano  had  before  him.  The  fierce 
black  bull  glaring  at  him  with  bent  head 
and  fiery  eyes,  uttering  low,  muttering  bel- 
lowings  of  rage  as  he  tore  at  the  earth, 
throwing  up  the  dust  in  a  cloud,  Avas  a  foe 
worthy  of  his  mettle.  He  was  a  bull  with' 
vicious  points  and  treacherous  ones.  Al- 
ready goaded  to  fury  by  the  play  of  the 
picadors  and  banderilleros,  he  must  be 
watched,  studied,  excited,  baffled  ;  not  one 
of  his  movements  must  be  lost,  or  even 
regarded  as  trifling  ;  wariness,  quickness, 
magnificent  daring,  the  subtlest  forethought, 
all  were  needed.  What  play  it  was !  what 
a  match  between  brute  cunning,  power,  and 
ferocity,  and  human  courage,  adroitness, 
and  calculation !  The  brilliant,  graceful 
figure  was  scarcely  a  moment  in  repose ;  it 
leaped  and  darted,  the  bright  cloak  wav- 
ing, inviting,  the  bright  sword  glittering  in 
the  sun — it  toyed  with  death  and  peril, 
evading  both  with   an   exultant  grace  and 


Jj^ 


jt  Sebastiano   was  addressing  the  president  of  the  games, 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.        37 

swiftness  marvellous  to  behold,  and  rousing 
the  on-lookers  to  shouts  of  joy  and  triumph. 
Even  old  Jovita  wakened  to  a  touch  of  fire 
which  seemed  like  a  renewal  of  her  long- 
past  youth.  Jose  and  Manuel  joined  their 
cries  with  the  rest.  Pepita  felt  again — yes, 
more  than  once — that  sudden  throb  and  thrill. 

And  when  at  last  the  end  was  reached, 
with  what  a  superb  spring  the  last  splendid 
blow  was  given  !  ISTo  need  of  a  second ;  the 
bull  staggered,  shuddered,  fell  forward  upon 
his  knees,  sank  upon  his  side.  Sebastiano 
stood  erect,  a  brilliant,  careless,  triumphant 
figure  again,  the  air  resounding  with  deafen- 
ing applause. 

"  You  have  seen  him,"  cried  Manuel  to 
Pepita — "  you  have  seen  Sebastiano  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  a  little  breathlessly, 
"  I  have  seen  him." 

And  even  as  she  spoke  she  knew  that  he 
had  seen  her ;  she  knew  it  even  before 
Manuel  spoke  again  in  great  excitement. 


38        THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSfi. 

"  He  looks  this  way — he  looks  at  us — at 
you." 

It  was  quite  true.  Something  had  attracted 
his  attention  to  the  tier  of  seats  in  which 
they  sat,  some  cry — who  knows  what  ? — 
perhaps  some  subtle  magnetic  influence.  He 
turned  his  head  with  a  quick  movement,  and 
his  eyes  fell  and  fastened  themselves  instantly 
upon  the  brilliant  little  face  glowing  like 
some  bright  flower  among  those  humbler 
and  less  blooming. 

"  He  looks  at  you,  Pepita,"  said  Jose. 

"  He  looks  at  }7ou  and  at  Jovita,"  Pepita 
answered.  And  she  laughed  and  turned  her 
face  away. 

But  not  before  Sebastiano  had  seen  it  well. 
It  was  Fate.  Yes,  he  knew  that.  He  had 
been  loved  often ;  he  had  had  romantic 
adventures,  but  it  had  always  been  he  who 
had  received  and  the  others  who  had  given  ; 
he  had  always  remained  Sebastiano,  the  hero, 
the  adored.     And  now  he  stood  and  looked 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.        39 

at  a  little  head  half  concealed  by  a  fan,  and 
forgot  for  a  moment  where  he  was,  and  that 
the  people  were  still  shouting  their  applause 
in  deafening;  tumult. 


CHAPTER   II. 

Pepita  and  the  others,  Manuel  with  them, 
ended  their  gala-day  with  still  another  fes- 
tivity. They  dined  together  at  a  little  cafe, 
and  heard  the  bull-fi^ht  fought  over  again 
by  those  around  them.  At  a  table  near 
them  sat  three  chulos,  who  talked  together 
in  voices  loud  enough  to  be  heard  through- 
out  their  meal.  And  it  was  of  Sebastiano 
they  spoke,  giving  dramatic  recitals  of  his 
daring  deeds,  telling  each  other  of  what  he 
had  done,  of  what  he  could  do,  and  that 
Madrid  had  never  seen  his  rival  or  peer. 
And  then  his  conquests.  It  was  true  that 
noble  ladies — beautiful  and  noble — had  sent 
him  messages  and  tokens.  Gonsalvo,  who 
was  his  intimate  friend,  could  tell  many 
thing's  if  he  chose.     Sebastiano  had  brilliant 


TEE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.        41 

triumphs.  Once  he  had  even  been  in  great 
danger  because  the  woman  who  loved  and 
sought  him  was  of  such  rank  that  her  rel- 
atives would  have  resorted  to  the  stiletto 
rather  than  allow  her  infatuation  to  con- 
tinue. 

"  But  it  is  said  truly  that  he  had  no  love 
for  her — that  he  has  little  for  any  of  them," 
said  one.  "  They  run  after  him  too  much, 
these  women." 

"  But  there  was  one  to-day — "  began  one 
of  the  others.  "  I  heard  it  of  Alfonso — he 
saw  her  at  the  bull-fight — Sebastiano — and 
tried  to  find  out — " 

He  made  a  movement  at  this  moment 
which  brought  Pepita  directly  within  his  view. 
She  had  been  hidden  from  him  before  by  the 
figure  of  Jovita.  He  stopped  with  his  wine 
untasted  and  stared  at  her.  A  moment  later 
he  bent  forward  and  spoke  in  a  lower  tone 
to  his  companions,  who  turned  to  look  also. 
Alfonso  had  pointed  her  out  to  him  as  she 


42        THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

left  the  Plaza  tie  Toros,  and  he  had  recog- 
nized her  again. 

"  The  little  one  is  there,"  was  what  he 
said,  "  behind  you.  He  asked  if  any  of  us 
had  seen  her  before  ;  if  we  knew  her  name." 

Pepita  did  not  hear  him,  and  did  not  know 
that  from  that  hour  they  would  all  know 
her,  or  that  at  least  there  would  be  few  of 
them  who  did  not.  For  Sebastiano  to  show 
an  interest  in  a  woman,  to  even  go  so  far  as 
to  ask  her  name,  was  such  a  new  thing  that 
it  must  be  spoken  of  and  attract  attention  to 
her.  And  that  she  was  not  a  fine  lady,  but 
only  a  pretty  unknown  girl  with  a  rose  in 
her  hair,  made  the  matter  all  the  more  excit- 
ing. When  she  fell  asleep,  tired  and  happy, 
that  night,  already  she  was  on  the  road  to 
fame.  Sebastiano,  who  was  the  adored  of 
his  order,  who  in  spite  of  his  adventures 
sought  no  woman,  had  asked  her  name,  had 
made  efforts  to  discover  it,  and  had  learned 
that  anions:  those  who  had  had  the  good  for- 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.       43 

tune  to  see  and  speak  to  her  she  was  known 
as  "  the  pretty  sister  of  Jose." 
"  A  week  from  this  time  Jose  came  home 
one  evening  bringing  Manuel  with  him. 
Manuel  was  often  with  him — in  fact  he  had 
many  friends  ;  almost  every  day  some  gay  or 
grave  young  fellow  managed  to  attach  him- 
self to  him,  and  somehow  the  acquaintance  al- 
ways shared  itself  soon  afterward  with  Pepita. 
But  Manuel  appeared  often  er  than  the  rest, 
having  a  timid  obstinacy,  and  seeming  only 
puzzled  and  not  discouraged  by  the  indiffer- 
ence which  sometimes  ignored  his  very  exist- 
ence. On  this  particular  evening  he  was 
moved  from  his  usual  calm,  and  so  was  Jose. 
They  had  seen  Sebastia.no ;  they  had  spoken  to 
him  ;  in  the  presence  of  a  circle  of  his  friends 
and  admirers  he  had  drunk  wine  with  them. 
"  We  were  passing  the  wine-shop  and  we 
saw  him,"  explained  Manuel,  "  and  we  went 
in  to  look  on  a  little  and  hear  him  talk. 
One  of  the  chulos  who  stood  near  spoke  to 


44        THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

him  quickly  when  he  saw  us — as  if  he  knew 
us — and  presently  the  same  chulo  came  and 
spoke  to  Jose,  and  soon  Sebastiano  came  and 
spoke  too.  The  one  who  approached  us  first 
was  one  of  the  three  who  drank  at  the  table 
near  us  on  the  evening  after  the  bull-fight. 
Once,  in  his  boyhood,  Sebastiano  lived  near 
the  village  you  left ;  he  knew  Padre  Ale- 
jandro and  some  others ;  he  was  pleased  to 
see  Jose  and  speak  of  them — it  was  as  if 
they  were  friends  at  once." 

"  He  has  a  good  heart,"  put  in  Jose ; 
"they  all  say  that  of  him.  He  remembered 
everything — even  old  Juan,  who  lived  to  be 
a  hundred  and  was  bent  double.  He  asked 
if  he  lived  yet.  It  seems  strange  that  he 
was  once  so  near  us,  and  was  a  little  lad, 
ill-used  and  poor.  He  is  not  too  proud  to 
remember  it.  lie  would  be  a  good  friend  to 
one  in  trouble — Sebastiano — though  he  is 
rich  and  spoken  of  by  the  whole  world." 

So  great  a  celebrity  Jose  was  convinced 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE.       45 

must  be  known  to  the  entire  universe.  That 
night,  as  Pepita  made  ready  for  her  bed,  old 
Jovita,  who  had  already  retired,  lay  and 
looked  at  her. 

The  girl  stood  in  the  flood  of  brilliant 
white  moonlight  which  bathed  part  of  the 
bare  room ;  her  round  dimpled  arms  were 
lifted  as  she  unwound  the  soft  dusky  coils  of 
her  hair,  to  which  there  yet  clung  a  few  stars 
of  jasmine.  There  was  the  shadow  of  a  smile 
on  her  lips,  and  she  was  humming  a  tune. 

"  What  does  he  want  with  Jose — this  Se- 
bastiano  ?  "  said  Jovita,  grumblingly. 

"  Who  knows  ? "  said  Pepita. 

"He  wants  something,"  Jovita  went  on. 
"  They  don't  make  friends  with  those  be- 
neath them  for  nothing,  these  fine  ones. 
They  all  talk  of  you,  these  foolish  fellows, 
and  he  has  heard,  and  makes  friends  so  that 
he  can  see  you." 

"  What  do  they  say  of  me  ?  "  asked  Pe- 
pita, without  deigning  to  look  up. 


46        THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

"  Men  are  all  fools,"  grumbled  Jovita ; 
"  and  they  think  girls  are  fools  too.  They 
say  you  have  a  pretty  face  ;  and  he  thinks 
he  can  make  a  fool  of  you  if  you  are  not  one." 

"  Does  he  ?  "  said  Pepita,  with  a  dimpling 
cruel  little  smile.  "  Let  him  come  to-morrow 
— to-night.     Let  him  begin." 

"  He  will  begin  soon  enough,"  Jovita 
answered.  "  You  will  see.  Be  sure  he  does 
not  play  the  old  game  with  you  as  he  did 
with  Sarita." 

Pepita  shook  the  small  stray  blossoms  out 
of  her  hair  and  began  to  retwist  the  coil, 
breaking  into  singing  in  a  clear  voice : 

"  White,  white  is  the  jasmine  flower  ; 
Let  its  stars  light  thee 
Here  to  my  casement, 
Where  I  await  thee. 
White,  white  is  the  jasmine  flower, 
Sweet,  sweet  is  the  heart  of  the  rose, 
Sweet  my  mouth's  blossom — " 

She  stopped  short  and  dropped  her  arms. 


Ws 


Pepita   shook   the   small    stray    blossoms   out   of   her   hair. 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.       47 

"  See,"  she  said,  "  let  him  want  what  he 
will,  let  him  come  a  thousand  times,  and  I 
will  never  speak  to  him.1" 

In  the  gardens  the  next  Sunday  they  met 
him.  Pepita  was  talking  to  a  young  girl 
whose  name  was  Isabella,  and  whose  brother 
Juan  was  following  in  the  footsteps  of 
Manuel  and  the  rest.  It  was  Isabella  who 
first  saw  the  matador,  and  uttered  an  excla- 
mation. 

"  Your  brother  is  coming,"  she  cried, 
"  with — yes,  with  Sebastiano." 

Jose's  simple  face  was  on  fire  with  delight, 
but  Sebastiano  looked  less  gay,  and  his  step 
was  less  carelessly  buoyant  than  it  had  been 
in  the  bull-ring.  As  he  approached  the  group 
he  looked  only  at  Pepita.  But  Pepita  looked 
only  at  Jose,  her  eyes  laughing. 

4"  Jovita  is  cross,"  she  said  ;  "  she  has  been 
asking  for  you.     She  wishes  to  go  home." 

Sebastiano's  e}Tes  were  fastened  upon  her 
face,  upon  her  red  lips,  as  she  sj)oke.     He 


48        THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

had  heard  that  she  was  like  this ;  that  she 
gave  her  glances  to  no  man  ;  that  she  was 
prettier  than  the  rose  in  bloom,  and  as  cruel 
as  a  young  hawk,  and  his  heart  beat  as  he 
found  himself  near  to  her.  Since  the  hour 
he  had  seen  her  he  had  thought  only  of  how 
he  might  see  her  again,  of  how  he  might 
find  her.  He  had  made  one  bold  plan  after 
another,  and  had  been  forced  to  abandon 
each  of  them,  and  then  mere  chance  had 
thrown  Jose  in  his  path.  And  now  the 
instant  he  approached  her  she  was  about  to 
elude  him. 

He  spoke  a  few  hurried  words  to  Jose. 
It  was  too  early  to  go  away  ;  the  pleasure 
of  the  day  was  scarcely  at  its  height ;  he 
wished  to  entertain  them  ;  the}'  must  not  go. 

"  I  will  go  and  speak  to  Jovita,"  said  Jose, 
and  he  went,  leaving  the  four  together. 

The  two  simpler  ones  were  somewhat 
abashed  by  the  splendor  of  the  dashing 
figure ;  they  gazed  at  it  wTith  mingled  curi- 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE.        49 

osity  and  joy.  To  be  so  near  it  was  enough, 
without  effort  at  conversation.  Sebastiano 
moved  to  Pepita's  side.  A  Spanish  lover 
loses  little  time. 

"  I  saw  you,"  he  said,  "  at  the  bull-fight." 

Pepita  looked  over  his  shoulder  and  smiled 
at  a  passing  woman  who  had  greeted  her. 
Her  face  dimpled,  and  she  showed  her  small 
white  teeth.  It  was  as  if  she  did  not  see  the 
matador  at  all. 

"  It  was  at  the  bull-fight,"  he  persisted. 
"  Two  weeks  ago.  You  had  a  red  flower 
in  your  hair,  as  you  have  to-day.  Ever 
since — " 

"  It  was  not  true,"  Pepita  said  gayly,  to 
Isabella,  "  what  I  said  of  Jovita.  She  is 
always  cross,  but  she  does  not  wish  to  go 
home.  She  met  an  old  woman  she  knew  in 
her  young  days,  and  is  enjoying  herself  very 
much." 

"  Why  did  you  say  it  %  "  asked  Isabella, 
with  simple  wonder. 


50       THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

"  Because  I  wished  to  go  home  myself." 

"  Truly !  "  said  Isabella.     "  Why  is  that  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  entertained  so  much  to-day," 
answered  Pepita. 

"  We  will  make  it  more  amusing,"  said 
Sebastiano,  eagerly.  "It  shall  be  more 
amusing — ■" 

"  There  is  Jovita  with  her  old  woman 
now,"  interrupted  Pepita.  "  I  will  go  and 
speak  to  them." 

She  was  gone  the  next  instant — her  move- 
ment was  like  the  flight  of  a  bird.  Sebas- 
tiano stood  and  stared  after  her  in  silence 
until  Juan  addressed  him  respectfully. 

"  She  is  very  wonderful,"  he  said.  "  She 
changes  her  mind  before  one  knows.  Just 
before  you  came  she  said  she  was  amused, 
and  wished  to  remain." 

"  Perhaps,"  began  Sebastiano,  much  dis- 
comforted— "  perhaps  it  was  I — " 

"  Ah,  senor,"  said  Juan,  with  great  polite- 
ness, "  never.     It  is  said  that  she  always  does 


1 

. 

-■  | 

'                           -V          .  .T^s^-^J^?  ■*'  "*'"' 

_;      j 

--'  ~    -:     '/m00mPM     ~>=r-,- 

■-I  f  / 


OK 


'We   will    make   it   more   amusing,"    said    Sebastiano,    eagerly. 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.        51 

what  she  chooses,  and  she  chooses  to  do  a 
thousand  things." 

"  That  is  because  she  is  so  pretty,"  said 
Isabella.  "  She  is  so  much  prettier  than  all 
the  others,  and  she  does  not  care." 

"A  woman  who  is  so  pretty  as  that," 
remarked  Juan,  sententiously,  "  need  not 
care." 

"  She  says,"  put  in  Isabella,  "  that  if  she 
does  not  care,  others  will ;  but  if  she  should 
care,  the  others — "  She  stopped,  meeting 
Sebastiano's  eyes  and  becoming  a  little  con- 
fused. 

"What  would  happen  then,"  he  said,  "if 
she  should  care  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Isabella ;  "  but  she 
never  will — never." 

But  if  she  changed  often  toward  others, 
Sebastiano  found  no  change  in  her  mood 
toward  him.  They  did  not  leave  the  gar- 
dens until  late  in  the  day.  Jovita  was  enjoy- 
ing too  greatly  the  comradeship  of  her  old 


52       THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

woman,  and  was  ready  to  enjoy  any  pleas- 
ure offered  to  her.  Sebastiano  had  a  full 
purse,  and  perhaps  understood  old  women 
of  Jovita's  class.  lie  made  himself  very 
agreeable  to  these  two,  finding  them  the 
most  comfortable  seats  and  supplying  them 
with  things  good  to  eat  and  drink,  over  which 
they  gossiped  together,  leaving  the  young 
ones  to  amuse  themselves  as  they  pleased. 
They  were  very  gay,  the  younger  ones; 
even  Manuel,  elated  by  the  presence  and 
hospitalities  of  Sebastiano,  made  little  jokes. 
But  none  of  them  were  gayer  than  Pepita- 
She  was  the  centre  figure  of  the  party ;  they 
all  looked  at  her,  listened  to  her,  were  led  by 
her  slightest  caprice.  They  went  here  and 
there,  did  this  or  that,  because  she  wished 
it.  It  was  Sebastiano  who  was  the  host  of 
the  hour,  but  by  instinct  each  knew  it  was 
Pepita  who  was  the  chief  guest — who  must 
be  pleased. 

"  Is  she  pleased  ? "  the  matador  asked  Jose 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.        53 

once  in  a  low-toned  aside.     "  Does  she  not 

entertain  herself  ? " 

"  Does  she  not  say  so  ? "  answered  Jose, 
with  some  slight  secret  misgiving. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Sebastiano,  looking 
down.     "  She  does  not  speak  to  me." 

Jose  pushed  his  hat  aside  and  rubbed  his 
forehead.  His  respect  for  Pepita's  whims 
had  begun  early  in  life  and  was  founded  on 
experience. 

"  She  is  }roung,"  he  faltered — "  she  is  very 
young.     When  she  enjoys  herself  she — " 

He  paused  with  an  uneasy  movement  of 
his  shoulders.  It  was  quite  terrible  to  him 
that  she  should  treat  with  such  caprice  and 
disdain  so  splendid  and  heroic  a  person  ;  but 
he  knew  there  was  nothing  to  be  done. 

"  She  admires  you,"  he  said,  with  coura- 
geous mendacity.  "  She  saw  you  at  the  bull- 
fight." 

"  She  will  be  there  again  ?  You  will  take 
her — the  next  time?"  said  Sebastiano. 


54        THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Jose.  "  She  has  asked 
that  I  will.  It  was  the  greatest  pleasure  of 
her  life." 

But  it  was  true  that  during  all  the  after- 
noon she  had  never  once  spoken  to  Sebas- 
tiano.  She  had  been  as  gay  as  a  young  bird, 
and  the  spirit  of  the  party,  her  laughter,  her 
pretty  mockeries  and  sauciness,  had  carried 
all  before  them.  Manuel  had  been  reduced 
to  hopeless  slavery.  Isabella  had  looked  on 
in  secret  reverential  wonder.  Jovita's  old 
woman  had  glanced  aside  again  and  again, 
nodding  her  head,  and  saying,  sagely  :  "  Yes, 
she  will  always  have  it  her  own  way — the 
little  one.  You  are  lucky  in  having  such  a 
grandchild.  She  will  never  be  a  load."  But 
throughout  it  all  Pepita  had  managed  it 
that  not  one  of  her  words  had  fallen  directly 
to  Sebastiano.  If  he  spoke  to  her,  she  gave 
her  answer  to  the  one  nearest  to  him.  If  he 
did  not  put  an  actual  question  to  her,  she 
replied  merely  with  a  laugh  or   a  piquant 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.        55 

grimace  or  gesture,  which  included  all  the 
rest.  It  was  worse  than  coldness.  To  the 
others  it  was  perhaps  not  perceptible  at  all ; 
only  he  who  searched  for  her  eyes,  who 
yearned  and  strove  to  meet  them,  knew  that 
they  never  rested  upon  him  for  an  instant. 

And  then  when  he  so  daringly  arranged 
that  Jose  should  invite  him  to  return  home 
with  them,  to  what  did  it  all  come?  He 
was  lured  to  old  Jovita's  side  by  the  fact 
that  at  the  beginning  of  the  walk  Pepita 
kept  near  her,  and  no  sooner  had  the  old 
woman  involved  him  in  tiresome  talk,  from 
which  he  could  not  escape,  than  the  small 
figure  flitted  away  and  ended  the  journey 
homeward  under  the  wing  of  Jose,  and  ac- 
companied by  Manuel  and  a  certain  gay 
little  Carlos,  who  joked  and  laughed  like  a 
child. 

And  when  after  they  arrived,  and  the 
moon  rose,  and  they  sat  under  the  vines, 
though  there  was  gayety  and  laughter,  he 


56        THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

knew,  as  before,  that  in  some  mysterious 
manner  he  was  excluded  from  it,  though  he 
seemed  the  honored  and  distinguished  guest. 
Carlos,  who  sat  near  some  shrubs  in  bloom, 
made  a  little  wreath  of  white  flowers,  and  as 
she  played  and  sang  to  her  guitar,  Pepita 
wore  it  on  her  head.  Then  Manuel,  not  to 
be  outdone,  wove  a  garland  of  pink  oleander, 
and  she  threw  it  about  her  throat  and  sang  on. 
Sebastiano  forgot  at  last  to  speak,  and 
could  only  sit  and  look  at  her.  He  could  see 
and  hear  nothing  else.  It  was  almost  the 
same  thing  with  the  rest,  for  that  matter. 
She  was  somehow  the  centre  figure  round 
which  they  all  seemed  to  have  gathered,  as 
she  sat  there  playing,  a  night  breeze  some- 
times stirring  the  soft  ruffled  hair  on  her 
forehead,  which  was  like  black  floss  silk; 
and  whatsoever  she  sang,  however  passionate 
and  tender  the  wild  little  song,  however 
passionate  and  tender  her  voice,  her  young 
eyes  had  mockery  in  them — mocked  at  the 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.        57 

words,  the  tenderness  of  her  own  voice,  and 
at  those  who  were  moved  by  it ;  and  most  of 
all  Sebastiano  knew  that  she  mocked  at 
himself. 

But  he  could  not  go  away.  Some  strange 
thing  had  happened  to  him,  it  seemed;  it 
was  as  if  a  spell  had  fallen  upon  him.  Bet- 
ter to  be  mocked  than  to  go  away.  He  stayed 
so  late  that  Jovita  fell  asleep  and  nodded 
under  the  shadow  of  the  grape-vines.  And 
at  last  Pepita  put  down  her  guitar  and  rose. 
She  stood  upright  in  the  moonlight,  and  ex- 
tended her  pretty  arms  and  stretched  them, 
laughing. 

"  Good-night,"  she  said.  "  Jovita  will 
amuse  }rou.  Already  there  have  been  too 
many  hours  in  this  day." 

She  ran  into  the  house  with  no  other  adieu 
than  a  wave  of  her  hand,  and  the  next 
minute  they  could  hear  her  singing  in  her 
room,  and  knew  she  was  going  to  bed. 

Sebastiano  rose  slowly. 


58       THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSfi. 

"  Good-night,"  he  said  to  Jose. 

Manuel  and  Carlos  said  good-night  also, 
and  went  out  together,  walking  side  by  side 
down  the  white  moonlit  road;  but- Sebas- 
tiano  moved  away  from  the  shadowing  vines 
with  a  lingering  step,  and  Jose  went  with 
him  a  short  distance.  Something  in  his 
hero's  air  of  gravity  and  abstraction  some- 
what overawed  him. 

"She  has  not  been  entertained,"  said 
Sebastiano  at  last. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Jose.  "  She  has  had  pleas- 
ure all  the  day.     And  she  is  fond  of  pleasure." 

"  She  said  there  had  been  too  many  hours 
in  the  day." 

Jose  rubbed  his  head  a  little  reflectively 
for  a  moment,  and  then  his  countenance 
somewhat  brightened. 

"  She  wished  to  lie  a  little  for  amusement," 
he  said,  affectionately.  "  There  is  no  wrong 
in  her — Pepita — but  sometimes,  to  be  amused, 
she  will  tell  a  little  lie  without  sin  in  it, 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.       59 

because  she  knows  we  understand  her.  She 
does  not  expect  us  to  believe.  We  who  are 
used  to  her  know  her  better.  You  will  also 
understand  in  time." 

"Then  I  may  come  again  ?  "  asked  Sebas- 
tiano. 

The  heavy  body  of  Jose  almost  trembled 
with  simple  pleasure. 

"  It  is  all  yours,  senor,"  he  said,  with  a 
gesture  including  the  little  house  and  all  the 
grape-vines  and  orange  blossoms  and  olean- 
ders. "  It  is  poor  and  small,  but  it  is  yours 
— and  we — " 

Sebastiano's  dark  eyes  rested  for  an  instant 
on  a  little  window  under  the  eaves  where  a 
jasmine  vine  wreathed  a  thick  tangle  of 
green,  starred  with  white  flowers.  And  as 
he  looked  a  voice  broke  through  the  fragrant 
barrier  singing  a  careless,  broken  bit  of 
song — 

"  White,  white  is  the  jasmine  flower  ; 
Let  its  stars  light  thee." 


GO       THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

"  It  is  Pepita,"  said  Jose.  "  She  always 
sings  when  she  is  pleased.  It  is  always  a 
good  sign."1 

If  her  singing  was  a  sign  of  pleasure,  then 
she  must  have  been  enjoying  her  life  greatly 
in  the  days  that  came  afterward,  for  she  was 
singing  continually.  As  she  went  about  her 
work  there  was  always  the  shadow  of  a 
smile  on  her  lips  and  in  her  eyes,  as  if  her 
thoughts  amused  her.  And  she  was  in  such 
gay  spirits  that  Jose  was  enchanted.  He 
had  only  one  vague  source  of  trouble :  all  the 
rest  had  turned  out  so  well !  It  had  all  oc- 
curred just  as  he  had  dreamed,  but  scarcely 
dared  to  hope,  in  those  by-gone  days  when 
he  had  been  hard-worked  and  ill-fed  and  ill- 
clad.  He  had  a  good  place,  and  what 
seemed  by  comparison  incredibly  good  wages. 
He  had  the  nice  little  house,  and  Pepita  had 
holiday  garments  as  gay  and  pretty  as  any 
other  girl,  and  looked,  when  dressed  in  them, 
gayer  and  ten  times  prettier  than  all  the  rest. 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE.       61 

That  was  what  he  had  looked  forward  to 
most  of  all,  and  his  end  was  attained.  And 
when  he  walked  out  with  her,  all  the  }Toung 
fellows  who  were  allowed  to  come  near — 
and  many  who  were  not — fell  in  love.  Yes, 
it  was  true ;  he  saw  it  himself  and  heard  it 
on  every  side.  It  would  take  the  fingers  of 
both  hands  to  count  those  who  were  frankly 
enamoured,  beginning  with  Carlos  and  Man- 
uel. But  it  was  at  this  point  that  the  vague 
trouble  came  in.  And  it  was  Pepita  her- 
self who  caused  it,  by  her  treatment  of  her 
adorers.  To  say  that  she  dealt  out  scorn  to 
them  would  be  to  say  too  much  ;  she  simply 
dealt  out  nothing — and  less.  They  might 
come  and  go ;  they  might  follow  and  gaze 
and  sigh — she  did  not  even  deign  to  seem  to 
know  they  did  so,  unless  by  chance  one  be- 
came too  pertinacious,  and  then  she  merely 
transfixed  him  with  a  soft,  cruelly  smiling  eye. 
"  She  will  not  marry  any  of  them,"  said 
Jose  to  Jovita  in  bewilderment. 


G2        TEE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

"  That  will  come  soon  enough,"  said  Jo- 
vita.  "  She  is  pretty,  and  it  makes  her  a 
little  fool — all  girls  are  like  that ;  but  one  of 
these  days  you  may  look  out — it  will  be  all 
over.  She  is  just  the  one  to  blaze  up  all  at 
once." 

"  I  do  not  think  she  is  a  fool  like  other 
girls,"  said  Jose,  with  gravity.  "  But  she 
does  not  seem  to  care  about  love ;  she  does 
not  seem  to  know.  She  is  not  even  sorry  for 
them  when  they  are  miserable."  He  did  not 
consider  himself  when  he  thought  of  her 
marriage ;  in  truth  he  put  himself  in  the 
background,  for  if  some  other  man  filled  her 
life  and  her  heart  his  vocation  would  be 
gone,  and  there  would  be  some  dull  hours 
for  him  before  he  could  become  used  to  it. 
But  he  had  an  innocent  feeling  that  without 
this  love,  of  which  all  men  talked  so  much, 
the  life  he  wished  to  be  bright  would  not  be 
quite  complete.  She  was  too  pretty  and  too 
good  never  to  be  married — never  to  have  a 


TEE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.        63 

home  of  her  own  and  some  fine  fellow  to 
love  the  dust  she  walked  on.  He  himself 
was  only  Jose,  and  a  brother  was,  after  all, 
a  poor  substitute  for  a  lover  who  could  talk 
and  sing  and  make  jokes,  and  wear  such  a 
dashing  air  that  she  would  be  proud  of  him. 

"  That  is  it,"  he  said,  sagely,  to  himself. 
"  A  woman  must  have  some  one  to  be  proud 
of,  and  she  could  never  be  proud  of  me.  If 
I  were  Sebastiano  now,  it  would  be  different." 

He  stopped  suddenly  and  rubbed  his  head, 
as  his  habit  was  when  he  was  startled  or 
confused,  and  his  face  became  rather  red. 
Perhaps  this  was  because  he  remembered 
that  among  all  the  rest,  the  magnificent,  the 
illustrious,  the  beautiful  Sebastiano  was  the 
one  to  whom  she  showed  least  grace.  In 
fact  it  was  almost  mysterious,  her  manner 
toward  him.  They  had  seen  him  often — he 
had  come  in  many  evenings  to  sit  under  the 
vines ;  when  the}7  went  out  for  pleasure  it 
somehow  happened  that  they  nearly  always 


GJ:       THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

met  him  ;  but  when  he  joined  them  Pepita 
became  at  once  possessed  of  some  strange 
wilful  spirit.  Upon  reflection  Jose  found 
that  he  had  never  yet  heard  her  speak  to 
him :  it  appeared  to  him  as  he  thought  it 
over  that  she  always  by  some  device  avoided 
answering  directly  what  he  said  to  her. 

"  That  is  a  strange  thing,"  said  Jose, 
deeply  mystified,  as  he  suddenly  realized 
this,  "  when  one  remembers  how  he  can  slay 
a  bull.  There  is  no  one  else  who  can  slay  a 
bull  as  he  can.  It  is  enough  to  make  one 
weep  for  joy.  And  yet  she  can  treat  him 
ill." 

But  he  did  not  know  how  ill  ;  only  Sebas- 
tiano  knew  that.  Since  the  day  he  had 
stood  in  the  arena  and  had  seen  all  in  a  mo- 
ment, as  if  a  star  had  suddenly  started  into 
the  sky,  the  small  black  head  and  rose  of  a 
face,  he  had  lived  in  a  fevered  dream — a 
dream  in  which  he  pursued  always  some- 
thing which  seemed  within  his  grasp  and  yet 


TEE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.       65 

forever  eluded  him.     What  had  he  cared  for 

all  the  rest  of  the  women  ?    Nothing.    It  had 

confused  and  angered  him  when  they  had 

thrown  themselves  in  his  way  or  sent  him 

offerings,  and   when   he  had    been   told  of 

this  or  that  beauty  who  was   in   love  with 

his    proud    bearing    and    dashing   courage. 

Women  !     What   were  women  ?      He   had 

only  cared  for  the  bulls,  for  the  clamor  of 

the  people,  and  the  wild  excitement  of  the 

arena.     All  he  had  wished  for  was  to  learn 

the  best   stroke,  the   finest   leap.     But  this 

girl,    who  had    never  opened  her   scornful 

little  mouth  to  deign  him  a  word — who  had 

never  once  allowed  him  to  look  in  her  eyes 

— somehow  this   one   drove  him  half  mad. 

He  could  think  of  nothing  else;  he  forgot 

even   the  bulls ;  he   spent   all  the  day  and 

sometimes  all  the  night  in  devising  plans  to 

entrap   her  into  speaking,  to   force   her  to 

look  at  him.    How  obstinate  she  was !    How 

she  could  elude  him,  as  if  by  some  magic ! 
5 


66        THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

What  had  he  not  done  that  he  might  be  near 
her?  He  had  followed  her  ever}Twhere. 
Jose  did  not  know  that  she  scarcely  ever 
went  out  "without  his  following  and  speaking 
to  her.  He  used  to  spring  up  by  her  side  as 
if  he  had  risen  out  of  the  earth,  but  after 
the  first  two  or  three  times  he  never  suc- 
ceeded in  making  her  start  or  show  any  feel- 
ing whatever. 

But  that  first  time,  and  even  the  second, 
she  had  started.  The  first  time  she  had  gone 
to  the  old  "well  for  water,  and  as  she  stood 
resting  in  the  shade  a  moment  he  appeared 
with  a  bouquet  of  beautiful  strange  flowers 
in  his  hand. 

"  God  be  with  you  !  "  he  said,  and  laid  the 
flowers  down  a  moment  and  drew  the  water 
for  her. 

She  watched  him  draw  it,  smiling  just  a 
little. 

"  It  will  be  a  fine  day  for  the  bull-fight," 
he  said,  when  her  jar  was  filled. 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE.        67 

She  put  her  hand  up  and  shaded  her  work- 
ing eyes  as  she  looked  at  the  blue  sky,  but 
she  said  nothing. 

"  Do  you  go  to-day  to  the  Plaza  de  Toros?" ' 

'he  asked.     "You  shall  have  good  places — 

the  best.     They  are  good  bulls  to-day,  black 

Andalusians,    fierce   and    hard    to   manage. 

There  will  be  fine  sport.     You  will  go  1 " 

She  leaned  against  the  side  of  the  well 
and  looked  down  into  the  water,  where  she 
could  see  her  face  reflected  in  the  cool,  dark 
depths.  The  next  moment  Sebastiano's  was 
reflected  also.  He  held  the  flowers  in  his 
hand. 

"  These !  "  he  said.  "  It  was  one  of  the 
gardeners  of  the  king  who  gave  them  to  me. 
They  are  such  as  the  queen  sometimes  wears. 
I  brought  them  that  you  might  wTear  them 
at  the  bull-fight." 

She  saw  their  beauty  reflected  in  the  water. 
She  would  not  look  at  them  directly.  They 
were  very  beautiful.      She  had  never  seen 


68       THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

such  flowers.  And  the  queen  herself  had 
"worn  others  like  them.  If  any  one  else  had 
brought  them — but  it  was  Sebastiano.  And 
she  remembered  Sarita.  Perhaps  he  had  at 
some  time  given  some  to  Sarita,  knowing 
that  to  a  country  girl  who  knew  nothing 
they  would  seem  very  grand.  Sarita  would 
have  been  sure  to  take  them. 

A  wicked  little  look  came  into  her  face. 
She  turned  as  if  to  take  up  her  water  jar. 
But  Sebastiano  laid  his  hand  upon  it. 

"  You  will  not  speak,"  he  said  passion- 
ately. "  No ;  nor  even  look  at  the  flowers  I 
bring  you.  You  shall  tell  me  at  least  what 
I  have  done.  Come,  now.  Am  I  a  devil  ? 
What  is  it?" 

She  put  her  hands  behind  her  back  and 
fixed  her  great  eyes  upon  him  for  a  moment. 
He  could  not  say  now  that  she  had  not 
looked  at  him.  He  thought  he  could  keep 
her,  did  he,  when  she  did  not  choose  to  stay? 
She,  Pepita!    She  stood  there  staring  at  him 


^M$t 


She   leaned  against  the   side   of  the   well. 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE.       69 

for  a  moment,  and  then  turned  about  and 
walked  off,  leaving  him  with  her  water  jar. 
Let  him  stand  and  watch  over  it  all  day  if 
he  would. 

She  went  back  to  the  house  and  called 
Jovita. 

"  If  }Tou  want  your  water  now,"  she  said, 
"  you  will  have  to  go  to  the  well  for  it.  It 
is  drawn,  and  Sehor  Sebastiano  is  taking  care 
of  it." 

"  JMother  of  God !  "  said  Jovita,  staring, 
"  she  is  mad  with  her  Sehor  Sebastiano." 

But  not  another  word  could  she  gain,  and 
before  she  could  reach  the  well  she  met  a  boy 
carrying  the  water  jar  toward  the  house,  and 
was  told  that  he  had  been  paid  to  bring  it. 

They  went  to  the  bull-fight;  and,  asPepita 
sat  among;  the  rest,  out-blooming1  the  red 
flower  in  her  hair,  she  heard  it  said  that 
Sebastiano  had  never  before  been  so  mag- 
nificent, had  never  shown  such  daring  and 
dexterity. 


70       THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSA 

uIIe  looks  at  Pepita,"  said  Isabella  to 
Carlos.  "  When  he  entered,  his  eyes  found 
her  before  he  saw  anything  else." 

Yes,  he  saw  Pepita,  and  Pepita  sat  and 
watched  him  with  as  cool  an  interest  as  if 
the  peril  with  which  he  played  meant  noth- 
ing. Her  lovely  eyes  glowed  under  their 
drooping  lashes,  but  it  was  only  with  a  mo- 
mentary excitement  caused  by  the  fierce 
sport;  the  man  was  nothing. 

So  it  seemed  at  least  to  Sebastiano.  It 
was  a  bad  bull  he  encountered,  savage  and 
treacherous,  and  maddened  by  his  rage.  Once 
there  was  a  moment  when  a  shadow  of  a 
misstep  would  have  cost  him  his  life.  There 
was  no  time  to  look  at  Pepita  then,  but  when 
the  danger  was  passed  and  he  glanced  to- 
ward her,  she  was  softly  waving  her  fan  and 
smiling  up  at  Manuel  as  if  she  had  not  even 
seen. 

"  She  has  a  bad  heart,"  he  said  to  himself, 
with  fierce  impatience.    "  It  is  not  nature  that 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.       71 

a  young  girl  should  mock  at  everything,  and 
be  so  cruel,  and  have  neither  feeling  nor 
even  a  little  fear.  She  has  a  bad  heart,  or 
none  at  all." 

He  would  not  look  at  her  again ;  he  swore 
it  to  himself.  And  for  a  short  time  he  kept  his 
vow  ;  but  there  came  a  moment  when  some- 
thing, some  irresistible  feeling,  conquered 
him.  It  was  as  if  he  must  look — as  if  some 
magic  forced  him,  drew  his  eyes  toward 
her  in  spite  of  himself.  And  when  he  had 
looked,  a  sharp  shock  thrilled  him,  for  she 
herself  was  looking  at  him ;  her  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  him  with  a  strange  steadiness,  as 
if  perhaps  they  had  been  resting  upon  him  for 
some  minutes  and  she  had  forgotten  herself. 
It  was  a  little  thing  perhaps,  but  it  was 
enough  for  his  hot  blood  and  swift-veerincr 
impulsive  nature.  He  had  just  given  the 
final  stroke  ;  he  was  panting,  glowing.  The 
people  were  shouting,  rising  in  their  seats, 
and  repeating  his  name  with  caressing,  ap- 


72       THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

plauding  epithets  attached  to  it.  Chance 
had  brought  him  near  the  seat  in  which  she 
sat,  with  Jovita  and  Jose  and  the  others 
near  her.  They  were  applauding  with  the 
rest,  all  but  Pepita,  who  only  sat  and  smiled. 
And  in  the  midst  of  it  Sebastiano  made  a 
swift  movement,  so  swift  that  it  was  scarcely 
to  be  understood — a  mere  touch  of  the  hand 
to  the  shoulder — and  something  bright,  like 
a  many-hued  bird,  flew  over  the  barrier  and 
fell  upon  Pepita's  lap.  It  was  the  knot  of 
gay,  rich  ribbon  which  a  moment  before  the 
matador  had  worn. 

"  It  is  the  devisa  !  "  exclaimed  Isabella,  in 
an  awestruck  tone. 

" It  is  his  devisa"  cried  Jose — " his  devisa, 
Pepita.  He  has  thrown  it  to  you  yourself — 
Sebastiano." 

The  next  moment  he  was  struck  dumb 
with  amazement.  Pepita  sat  upright  and 
broke  into  a  little  laugh.  She  lightly  waved 
her  fan. 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE.       ^3 

"  Why  did  he  not  throw  it  to  Jovita  ?  " 
she  said,  and  with  a  cruel,  careless  little 
movement  she  swept  the  devisa  from  her 
knee ;  it  fell,  and  she  set  her  foot  upon 
it. 

"  She  has  trodden  upon  it,"  said  old 
Jovita.  "  She  has  done  it  for  pride,  and  to 
show  herself  above  others.  She  is  ready  for 
the  devil.     Some  one  should  beat  her." 

"  It  was  the  devisa"  gasped  Jose.  "  Se- 
bastiano." 

Pepita  left  her  seat.  It  seemed  as  if  some- 
thing strange  must  have  happened  to  her. 
The  crimson  had  leaped  to  her  cheeks,  and 
her  eyes  were  ablaze. 

"  What  is  it  to  me,  his  devisa  f  "  she  said. 
"  I  do  not  want  it.  I  will  not  have  it.  Let 
him  throw  a  thousand,  and  I  will  tread  upon 
them  all,  one  after  the  other.  Let  it  lie  in 
the  dirt.  Let  him  give  it  to  those  others, 
those  women  who  want  it — and  him."  She 
would  go  home  at  once  ;  not  to  the  pleasure- 


74       THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

gardens,  not  anywhere  but  back  to  the  cot- 
tage ;  and  Jose  followed  her  meekly,  struck 
dumb.  lie  had  seen  her  wilful,  capricious, 
childishly  passionate,  a  little  hard  to  under- 
stand, many  times  before,  but  never  like 
this.  What  had  occurred  to  her  ?  What 
had  Sebastiano  done  ? 

Jovita  had  picked  up  the  knot  of  gay 
ribbon  and  brushed  the  dust  off  it,  and  car- 
ried it  home  with  her,  grumbling  fiercely. 
She  was  never  averse  to  grumbling  a  little, 
and  here,  the  saints  knew,  was  cause. 

"  For  pride,"  she  kept  repeating  ;  "  for 
pride,  and  to  show  that  others  are  beneath 
her !  Mother  of  God  !  the  king  himself  is 
not  frood  enough  for  her!  Let  him  come 
and  pray  upon  his  knees  that  she  will  go  to 
the  palace  and  wear  a  crown,  and  he  will 
see  what  she  will  say  !  It  is  these  fools  of 
men  who  spoil  her,  as  if  there  had  never 
been  a  pretty  face  before.  Let  them  treat 
her  as  she  treats  them,  and  she  will  be  hum- 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.        75 

ble   enough.     She    was   always   one   of  the 
devil's  children  with  her  pride ! " 

But  Pepita,  who  heard  it  all,  said  nothing, 
though  once  or  twice  she  gave  her  little 
mocking  laugh. 


CHAPTER  III. 

By  the  time  Pepita  had  reached  home  her 
mood  had  changed — her  anger  was  gone,  or 
at  least  the  signs  of  it  were.  She  sang  as 
she  prepared  the  supper,  and  chatted  gayly 
with  Jose.  It  appeared  that,  after  all,  she 
had  enjoyed  the  bull-fight ;  it  had  even  been 
better  than  the  others ;  she  had  had  great 
pleasure.  She  made  delightful  little  jests 
about  everything  ;  she  recounted  the  names 
of  the  people  she  had  seen  and  known ;  she 
described  to  him  the  dresses  of  the  girls,  the 
airs  and  graces  of  the  men.  She  laughed, 
and  obliged  Jose  to  laugh  also,  and  all  the 
time  she  looked  so  pretty,  with  the  queer 
light  in  her  eyes,  the  gleam  of  her  little 
wicked  white  teeth,  and  the  brilliant  spot  of 


TEE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.       ?7 

color  on  her  cheeks,  that  she  was  enough  to 
turn  one's  head. 

The  moon  was  at  its  brightest  that  night. 
All  the  earth  was  bathed  in  pure,  magic 
whiteness — the  whiteness  which  somehow 
seems  to  bring  perfume  and  stillness  and 
mysterious  tenderness  with  it.  Such  a  night ! 
One  breathed  roses  and  orange  blossoms  and 
jasmine.  Pepita  sat  under  the  roses  and 
sang  and  talked,  and  Jose  smoked  and  was 
happy,  but  still  in  a  state  of  bewilderment, 
though  the  stillness  and  beauty  of  the  night 
soothed  him  and  made  him  content  to  rumi- 
nate without  words. 

Jovita  fell  asleep.  She  always  fell  asleep 
out-of-doors  on  the  warm  summer  nights, 
and  in-doors  by  the  fire  when  it  was  winter. 
Pepita  ceased  to  talk,  and  sang  one  little  song 
after  another ;  then  she  even  ceased  to  sing, 
and  only  touched  her  guitar  softly  now  and 
then.  After  a  while  Jose,  who  had  stretched 
himself  upon  a  bench,  fell  asleep  also. 


78       TIIE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

Pepita  ceased  to  touch  her  guitar.  She 
looked  out  at  the  flowers  sleeping  in  the 
moonlight,  and  for  a  few  minutes  was  very- 
still  ;  then  she  laid  the  guitar  down  and 
stepped  out  into  the  brightness. 

In  the  light  of  the  moon  one  cannot  see 
the  color  in  a  face.  Perhaps  this  was  why 
hers  seemed  to  be  gone.  She  looked  quite 
pale,  and  her  lovely  little  brows  were  drawn 
together  until  they  made  a  black  line  across 
her  forehead.  She  clasped  her  hands  behind 
her  head,  and  with  her  face  a  little  thrown 
back,  so  that  the  light  fell  full  upon  it,  wan- 
dered out  among  the  trees  and  fragrant 
flowering  things.  She  liked  the  jasmine 
best,  and  over  one  part  of  the  low,  rough 
wall  there  climbed  one  which  blossomed 
with  a  myriad  stars.  So  she  went  and  stood 
by  it,  and  looked  now  at  it,  now  up  and 
down  the  road,  which  the  moon  had  made 
into  a  path  of  snow. 

And  as  she   stood  there,  suddenly  there 


'Am 


V 


She  clasped   her   hands   benind    her   head. 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.       79 

started  up  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall  the 
figure  she  knew  so  well,  and  the  next  mo- 
ment it  had  vaulted  over  and  was  close  to 
her.     Sebastiano ! 

She  stood  still,  her  hands  still  clasped  be- 
hind her  head,  her  face  still  upturned,  and 
looked  at  him. 

He  folded  his  arms  and  looked  at  her. 
As  for  him,  whether  the  moonlight  was  to 
blame  or  not,  he  was  as  pale  as  death. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "you  are  always  the  same. 
You  do  not  change.  One  may  come  at  any 
hour.  But  listen  to  me.  You  think  I  have 
come  to  reproach  you.  Why  should  I  %  I 
have  fought  bulls,  but  that  does  not  teach 
men  how  to  deal  with  women.  I  thought 
that,  if  a  man  gave  you  his  soul  and  his  life 
and  the  breath  of  his  body,  you  would  listen 
some  day  and  let  him  think  of  you.  You 
are  a  woman,  and  you  are  made  to  be  loved ; 
but  there  is  something  hard  in  your  heart. 
You  are  proud  of  having  mocked  a  man  who 


80       THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

was  honest  and  loved  yon.  But  hear  me :  it 
is  better,  after  all,  to  be  less  pretty  and  more 
a  woman." 

He  stopped  an  instant.  She  had  changed 
her  position,  and  stood  by  the  jasmine,  strip- 
ping the  blossoms  from  it  one  by  one.  She 
began  to  smile  and  sing  softly,  as  if  to  herself  : 

"  Oh,  bird  at  rny  window, 
Sing  but  one  song  to  me, 
My  lover  who  is  light  and  gay." 

"  And  more  a  woman,"  said  Sebastiano. 
"  It  is  women  men  want." 

Pepita  looked  up  and  laughed  ;  then  she 
sang  again  : 

"  Who  stirs  the  blossoms  in  the  night, 
Who  breaks  the  orange  flower." 

Sebastiano  made  a  swift  movement  and 
caught  her  wrists,  his  eyes  flashing  fire. 

"  That  is  nothing,"  he  said.  "  You  are 
woman  enough.  The  time  will  come.  It  will 
not  be  always  like  this.     You  can  be  made 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.        81 

to  love.  Yes,  you  are  one  of  those  who 
must  be  made.  Then  you  will  suffer  too, 
and  it  will  be  good  for  you.  You  will  speak 
then." 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  held  her  arms  a 
little  apart,  looking  at  her  with  a  sudden 
change  to  mournfulness. 

"  How  pretty  you  are  !  "  he  said.     "  How 

little  and  how  pretty  !     If  you  were  good 

and  gentle,  and  one  might  touch  your  cheek 

softly  or  stroke  your  hair,  how  one  would 

love  and  serve  you  !     No,  you  cannot  move. 

I  have  not  fought  bulls  for  nothing.     If  I 

let  you   move  you  will  struggle   and  hurt 

yourself.    Listen.     I  am  going  away.     I  will 

trouble  you  no  more  now.     I  will  wait.     If 

one  waits  long  enough,  pain  ceases  and  one 

forgets.     It  is   so  with  a  wound,  why  not 

with  what  one  feels  for  a  woman  ?     I  said 

you  could  be  made  to  love  ;  but  let  that  be 

left  for  another  man  to  do.     I  want  no  love 

like  that.     I  want  a  woman.     Some  day  you 
6 


82        THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

will  not  cast  the  devisa  under  your  feet. 
You  will  take  it  and  hide  it  in  your  breast. 
It  will  not  be  mine,  but  some  other  man's 
who  loves  you  less.  I  loved  you.  I  was  mad 
for  you  ;  but  it  shall  cease.  It  is  better  to 
think  only  of  the  bulls  than  to  play  the  fool 
for  a  woman  who  has  no  love  in  her  heart. 
You  are  pretty,  but  that  is  not  everything. 
You  can  work  spells,  but  a  man  can  break 
through  them.     There !     Go  !  " 

He  gave  her  one  long  look,  flung  her  hands 
aside,  and  had  vaulted  the  wrall  and  was  gone 
himself  one  moment  later. 

Pepita  stood  still  with  clinched  hands 
dropped  at  her  side,  staring  with  wide  fierce 
eyes  down  the  white  moonlit  road. 

The  next  evening  Jose  came  home  from 
his  work  later  than  usual.  He  came  down 
the  road  with  a  drooping  head  and  a  slow 
and  heavy  step.  When  he  sat  down  to  his 
food  he  ate  but  little,  and  as  he  bent  over  his 
soup  he  heard  Jo  vita  scolding. 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE.       83 

"  It  is  gone,"  she  was  saying.  "  You  took 
it,  and  have  thrown  it  away." 

"  Was  it  not  mine  1 "  said  Pepita.  "  It 
was  mine.  I  cared  nothing  for  it,  and  have 
done  what  I  chose  with  it." 

Jose  lifted  his  head  and  listened. 

"  What  has  happened  %  "  he  asked. 

"  She  has  thrown  away  the  devisa,  which  I 
had  saved,"  answered  Jo  vita.  "  I  laid  it  away, 
and  she  has  taken  it.  What  harm  did  it  do 
her  that  it  should  lie  out  of  her  sight  in 
peace  ?  " 

"  Did  you  do  that  ? "  Jose  said  to  Pepita. 

"  Was  it  meant  for  her  ? "  said  Pepita.  "  I 
told  you  he  ought  to  have  thrown  it  to  her 
and  not  to  me." 

Jose  broke  a  piece  of  bread  and  crumbled 
it  on  the  table  mechanically. 

"  You  need  not  have  done  that,"  he  said. 
"  I  wish  you  had  left  it  in  its  place.  It  did 
no  hurt,  and  we  shall  not  see  him  again. 
He  is  not  coming'  anv  more.     And  soon  he 


84:        TEE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 
goes  away ;  and  who  knows  what  may  hap- 


pen 


?" 


Pepita  walked  out  of  the  house  without 
speaking.  She  did  not  come  back  for  a  long 
time,  and  they  did  not  know  where  she  had 
gone  ;  but  as  that  was  her  way  when  she 
was  in  a  naughty  humor,  they  were  not 
anxious  about  her. 

When  she  returned  at  last  the  moon  was 
shining  again,  and  Jovita  was  asleep  in  the 
shadow  of  the  vines,  and  Jose  sat  on  the 
bench  outside  the  door,  smoking. 

Pepita  sat  down  on  the  threshold  and 
rested  her  head  against  the  side  of  the  door. 
She  said  nothing  at  all,  and  only  looked  out 
at  the  dew-laden  flowers  sparkling  in  the 
garden. 

There  was  silence  for  several  minutes,  and 
then  Jose  turned  uneasily  and  spoke. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "he  will  not  come  again ; 
and  soon  he  goes  away.  It  is  for  the  best. 
He  is  very  strong  and  determined.     Perhaps 


IL^ivfcAilL&i:**, 


Pepita  sat  down   on    the  threshold  and   rested   her   head   against  the  side  of  the   doo.\ 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE.        85 

that  comes  of  fighting  bulls.  He  said  he 
wanted  you,  but  you  did  not  want  him,  so 
he  must  forget  about  you.  He  must  cease  to 
think  of  you  or  hear  of  you.  He  asked  me 
as  a  friend  not  to  let  him  see  me  for  a  while, 
until  it  was  over.  To  see  me  would  remind 
him  of  you,  and  that  would  not  do.  He 
asked  it  as  a  friend — there  was  no  unkind- 
ness — he  is  my  friend,  yes,  though  he  is 
Sebastian o  and  I  am  only  a  poor  fellow  who 
works  hard.  It  will  all  be  as  well  as  ever 
between  us  when  it  is  all  done  with  and  we 
meet  again.  If  you  had  wanted  him  we 
should  have  been  brothers." 

Pepita  sat  still.  AVhat  strange  thing  had 
happened  to  her  ?  She  did  not  know. 
Something  was  the  matter  with  her  breath- 
ing. Something  hurt  her  side — labored  in  it 
with  heavy  beatings  like  blows  which  suffo- 
cated her.  She  shut  her  hands  and  drove 
the  nails  into  her  palms.  She  could  not  have 
spoken  for  the  world. 


86        THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

Before  Jose  could  say  more  she  rose  with 
fierce  suddenness,  and  passed  him  and  was 
gone  again. 

The  poor  fellow  looked  after  her  small 
swift  form  mournfully. 

"  If  she  had  wanted  him,"  he  said,  "  he 
would  have  made  her  a  good  husband,  and 
we  should  have  been  brothers.  But  she  is 
not  easy  to  please,  and  she  would  not  give 
one  a  chance  who  did  not  please  her  at  first. 
And  there  is  no  one  who  slays  a  bull  as  he 
does ! " 

Pepita  flew  like  a  bird  until  she  reached 
the  low  wall  where  the  jasmine  grew,  at  the 
spot  where  she  had  stood  the  night  before. 
There  she  stopped,  panting.  The  breath  of 
the  jasmine  filled  all  the  air  about  her.  She 
looked  up  the  white  road. 

A  strange  new  passion  filled  her.  She  did 
not  know  whether  it  was  anger  or  not,  but 
if  it  was  anger  it  was  of  a  new  kind,  with 
more  pain  in  it  than  she  was  used  to.     He 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.       87 

would  not  come  again — not  at  all  again ! 
He  would  not  appear  at  her  side  as  if  he  had 
sprung  from  the  earth ;  he  would  not  follow 
her  or  plead  with  her,  or  look  at  her  every 
moment  he  was  near  her  ;  he  would  not  try 
to  make  her  speak.  Only  last  night  he  was 
here  in  this  very  spot,  and  now  he  would 
never  speak  like  that  again.  He  would 
forget  her,  not  care  for  her — forget  her, 
Pepita. 

She  would  not  believe  it.  She  knew  he 
could  not — they  never  did ;  they  always 
loved  her  best  and  wanted  no  one  else.  And 
still  the  labored  throbbing  went  on  in  her 
side  and  she  panted  for  breath. 

"  Come  back,"  she  cried,  looking  up  the 
white  road.  "  I  tell  you  to  come  back. 
You  shall.  Do  you  hear  ?  I  tell  you — I — 
Pepita !  " 

But  there  was  no  answer,  no  sound  of  any 
footstep,  no  sign  of  any  advancing  shadow. 
The  road  stretched  out  its  white  length  in 


88       THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

utter  solitude,  and  a  strange,  wild  look  came 
into  her  beautiful  little  face. 

"  Do  }rou  not  hear  ?  "  she  persisted.  "  I 
wiU  not  speak  to  you  if  you  do  come  ;  I 
Avill  give  you  nothing ;  I  will  not  look  at 
you  ;  but  you  shall  come  because  I  will  it — 
because  I  am  Pepita." 

Still  there  was  only  silence  and  loneli- 
ness. Suddenly  she  flung  out  her  hands  and 
stamped  her  foot. 

"  I  will  kill  you,"  she  said.  "  If  you  do 
not  come — I  will  kill  you  !  " 

Then  almost  immediately  she  put  her 
clinched  hand  to  her  beating  side  and  sank 
down  upon  the  earth,  burying  her  face  in 
the  dew-wet  fragrant  tangle  of  the  jasmine. 

But  he  did  not  come  back.  And  yet  every 
night  she  went  and  stood  by  the  low  wall, 
and  looked  up  the  white  road  and  watched 
and  waited.  For  a  long  time  she  did  not 
know  what  she  intended  to  do  if  he  should 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.        89 

appear.  All  was  vague  in  her  mind.  At 
first  it  seemed  only  as  if  her  whole  being 
went  out  into  the  fierce  demand  that  he 
should  come,  and  the  obstinate  proud  belief 
that  it  must  be  as  she  wished — that  he  could 
not  resist  and  disobey  her.  Who  had  ever 
disobeyed  her?  Not  Jose;  not  Jovita,  for 
all  her  grumblings  ;  not  any  of  those  others. 
And  was  it  likely  that  he  who  had  adored 
her  more  than  all  the  rest,  who  had  watched 
her  with  that  hungry  love  in  his  eyes,  could 
do  what  no  other  had  ever  done?  She  told 
herself  this  over  and  over  again  ;  but  he  did 
not  come.  She  began  to  feel  a  feverish 
eagerness  when  she  dressed  herself,  a  pas- 
sionate desire  to  be  pretty — to  be  prettier 
than  ever  before.  She  used  to  stand  before 
her  scrap  of  looking-glass  to  try  on  one  bit 
of  simple  finery  after  another,  twisting  up 
the  soft  cloud  of  her  hair  afresh  a  dozen 
times  a  day,  and  putting  a  fresh  flower  in  it. 
She  went  to  the  well  again  and   again  and 


90       THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

filled  her  jar,  and  emptied  and  filled  it  again, 
and  lingered,  and  tried  not  to  look  round 
when  she  heard  a  footstep ;  but  the  right  one 
never  came,  though  her  heart's  throbbing 
shook  her  many  times  in  false  alarm.  She 
was  only  a  child — a  passionate  Spanish  child, 
ignorant  and  full  of  fierce  young  natural 
impulses — and  she  knew  only  childish,  crude 
methods.  So  she  made  herself  beautiful,  and 
showed  herself  in  the  places  where  she 
thought  he  would  see  her  and  be  unable  to 
resist  her  will  and  her  beauty ;  but  though 
she  made  Jose  take  her  here  and  there  and 
everywhere,  she  never  saw  Sebastiano  but 
once.  It  was  in  the  Public  Garden,  where 
they  had  first  met.  They  were  sitting  in  the 
shade  refreshing  themselves  with  wine,  and 
he  came  toward  them,  not  at  first  seeing 
them.  Pepita  clutched  her  fan  until  she 
broke  it,  and  a  wild  exultation  sprang  in  her 
breast.  She  had  seen  before  she  left  home 
that  she  had  never  before  been  so  pretty. 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.        91 

There  had  come  into  her  face  a  new  look — 
a  fire  that  had  burned  deeper  every  charm. 
He  would  see — he  would  see  that  she  was 
Pepita  still,  and  that  he  could  not  keep  his 
word  if  she  chose — if  she  chose. 

He  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  still  not  seeing 
them.  He  was  talking  to  the  three  com- 
panions who  were  with  him.  He  was  richly 
dressed,  and  looked  stronger  than  ever,  and 
more  handsome  and  graceful.  He  came  still 
nearer.  No,  she  would  not  speak  to  him. 
No !  He  looked  up  and  his  eye  fell  upon 
them — upon  Jose  and  Jovita  and  Pepita! 
He  drew  back  a  step  and  stood  still ;  he  made 
a  low  bow  to  them,  a  grand  bow,  such  as  he 
made  when  he  was  in  the  bull-ring  and  the 
people  applauded.  He  turned  away  and 
passed  on.     Yes,  without  a  word. 

Jose  sighed  a  deep  and  mournful  sigh  and 
rose  to  his  feet. 

"  Come,"  he  said.  "  We  must  go.  It  is 
best  not  to  stav.     He  does  not  wish  to  see 


92       THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

us,  and  he  asked  that  I  would  keep  away. 
It  is  a  pity — but  he  asked  it." 

The  breath  was  coming  in  sharp  little  puffs 
through  Pepita's  delicate  nostrils.  It  was  as 
if  she  had  been  struck  a  blow.  She  walked 
home  as  in  a  sort  of  delirium  ;  she  saw  none 
of  those  who  turned  to  look  at  her.  She 
walked  faster  and  faster.  Jovita  could  not 
keep  pace  with  her. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ? "  said  the  old  wo- 
man. u  You  walk  as  if  you  had  a  devil 
in  you.  Your  breath  is  all  gone.  Are  you 
mad  ? " 

At  night,  when  they  sat  together,  Pepita 
spoke  of  the  next  bull-fight.  Jose  must  take 
her.     She  wished  to  go. 

"  It  is  better  that  we  should  not  go  there," 
said  Jose.  "  You  know  wThy.  He  will  not 
like  to  see  you.  You  saw  how  it  was  to-day. 
He  is  not  angry,  only  he  is  determined  not 
to  be  reminded.  Soon  he  will  go  away,  and 
then  you  shall  go  with  me  as  often  as  you 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.       93 

wish  ;  but  not  now.  After  this  week  he  will 
be  far  away — far  away." 

"  I  will  go  now,"  said  Pepita.  '*  I  will  go 
without  you  if  you  will  not  take  me.  Isa- 
bella and  Juan  and  Manuel  will  be  glad 
enough.  Let  him — let  him  look  at  his 
bulls." 

She  did  not  know  that  it  was  desperation 
that  had  seized  upon  her  ;  she  thought  it  was 
defiance.  Yes,  yes,  she  told  herself,  breath- 
lessly, he  should  see  her  laugh  and  talk  with 
Manuel  and  Carlos  and  Juan  and  the  rest ; 
and  then  he  would  be  punished. 

She  would  hear  nothing  that  Jose  said. 
She  would  go — she  would  go.  jSTo  other 
bull-fight  but  this  would  please  her. 

She  could  scarcely  live  until  the  day  ar- 
rived. She  had  made  for  herself  a  new  gala 
dress ;  she  had  a  new  fan  and  a  necklace  she 
had  bought  out  of  her  little  savings. 

There  was  a  great  crowd.  It  was  known 
that  Sebastiano  was  to  go  away,  and  many 


94        THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

had  come  for  that  reason,  wishing  to  see  him 
for  the  last  time  in  the  season. 

At  first  Pepita  was  gayer  than  her  adorers 
had  ever  seen  her.  She  deigned  to  talk  and 
smile  and  listen.  She  had  the  restlessness 
and  color  of  some  brilliant-winged  bird.  Isa- 
bella looked  at  her  in  wonder. 

"  She  was  never  like  this  before,"  she  whis- 
pered to  Juan. 

And  then  Sebastiano  came,  and  for  the 
time  they  saw  onty  him. 

When  at  last  the  bull  la}*  an  inert  mass  in 
the  dust,  and  the  people  shouted  and  almost 
flung  themselves  from  their  places  into  the 
arena  in  their  excitement,  and  the  gay  and 
superb  actor  bowed  to  them — bowed  to  them 
again  and  again — -Pepita  sat  like  a  little 
image  of  stone.  She  was  quite  colorless, 
and  her  eyes  were  fixed.  She  seemed  to 
hear  and  see  nothing  until  some  one  spoke  to 
her.     Then  she  rose  and  looked  at  Manuel. 

"  It  is  too  hot,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice  not 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.        95 

like  her  own.  "  I  must  go.  The  sun.  I  have 
a  pain  in  rny  head.     Come." 

He  had  not  lifted  his  eyes  once  to  her.  It 
was  as  if  she  had  not  lived — as  if  she  had 
been  Isabella  or  Carmenita — and  he  did  not 
give  her  a  thought.  No,  he  had  not  once 
looked  up. 

The  next  day  he  was  gone.  She  heard 
Jose  say  so  to  Jovita,  who  grumbled  loudly. 
She  had  forgotten  her  old  distaste  for  these 
"fine  ones." 

"  And  but  for  her  humors  he  would  have 
stayed,"  she  said.  "  What  more  does  she  want 
than  a  fine  well-built  man  like  that — a  man 
who  is  well-to-do,  and  whom  every  other  girl 
would  dance  for  joy  to  get  ?  But  no  ;  nothing 
but  a  prince  for  her.  Well,  we  shall  see. 
She  will  work  for  her  bread  herself  at  last, 
and  serve  the  other  women  who  have  homes 
and  husbands." 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  she  was  wak- 
ened from  her  slumbers  by  something — she 


9G       THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

knew  not  what.  Soon  she  perceived  it  was 
Pepita,  trembling. 

"  What  is  it  now  ? "  demanded  the  old 
woman. 

"  I  sta}red  out  in  the  dew  too  long,"  said 
Pepita,  "and  I  am  cold." 

"  That  is  well,"  said  Jovita.  "  Get  chilled 
through  and  have  a  fever,  that  we  may  ruin 
ourselves  with  doctors'  bills ;  and  all  because 
vou  choose  to  remain  in  the  nisrht  air  when 
you  should  be  asleep." 

Pepita  lay  on  her  pillow,  her  eyes  wide 
open  in  the  darkness,  her  small  hot  hand 
clutching  against  her  breast  something  she 
had  hung  round  her  neck  bv  a  bit  of  ribbon. 
It  was  the  devisa  she  had  stolen  from  Jovita, 
and  which  had  not  been  thrown  away  at  all. 
In  the  daytime  it  was  hidden  in  the  bosom 
of  her  dress  ;  at  night  it  hung  by  a  cord  and 
her  hand  held  it.  By  this  time  a  sort  of  ter- 
ror had  mingled  itself  with  her  passion  of 
anger  and  pain,  and  she  lay  trembling  be- 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.        97 

cause  she  was  saying  to  herself  again  and 
again : 

"  I  am  like  Sarita !  I  am  like  Sarita  !  " 
She  said  it  to  herself  a  thousand  times  in 
the  weeks  and  months  which  followed,  and 
which  seemed  to  her  helplessness  like  years. 
She  said  it  in  as  many  moods  as  there  were 
hours  of  the  day.  Sometimes  with  wild  un- 
reasoning childish  rage ;  sometimes  with  a 
shock  of  fear  ;  sometimes  in  a  frenzy  of 
shame ;  sometimes,  as  she  stood  and  looked 
up  the  road,  her  cheeks  pale,  her  eyes  dilated 
with  self-pity  and  tears. 

"  I  am  like  Sarita !  Yes — Sarita  !  " 
She  remembered  with  superstitious  tremor 
all  the  things  that  had  been  said  to  her  of  the 
punishment  that  would  fall  upon  her  because 
of  her  hard-heartedness.  She  remembered 
Jovita's  prophecies,  and  how  she  had  mocked 
them  ;  how  cruel  she  had  been  to  those  who 
suffered  for  her ;  how  she  had  laughed  in 
their  faces  and  turned  away  from  their  sighs. 


98        TEE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

She  remembered  Felipe,  whom  she  had  not 
spared  one  pang — Felipe,  at  whom  she  had 
only  stared  in  scorn  when  he  wept  and  wrung 
his  hands  before  her.  Had  he  felt  like  this 
when  she  sent  him  back  to  Seville  to  de- 
spair ? 

A  cruel  fever  of  restlessness  burned  her. 
She  could  find  pleasure  no  more  in  the  nov- 
elties of  the  city,  in  the  gayeties  of  the  gar. 
dens,  in  her  own  beauty. 

Sometimes  she  was  sure  it  was  magic — the 
evil-eye.  And  she  slipped  away,  poor  child ! 
and  knelt  in  the  still,  cool  church,  and  prayed 
to  be  delivered. 

But  once  as  she  was  doing  this  a  sudden 
thought  struck  her. 

"  Not  to  think  of  him  any  more,"  she  said, 
knitting  her  brows  with  yet  another  new 
pang.  "  Not  to  remember  his  face — not  to 
remember  his  voice  and  the  words  he  said ! 
No,  no  !  "  And  her  rosary  slipped  from  her 
fingers  and  fell  upon  the  stone  floor,  and  she 


TEE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.        99 

picked  it  up  and  rose  from  her  knees  and 
went  away. 

All  that  day  and  night  she  thought  and 
thought,  and  the  next  day  went  to  pray 
again — but  not  that  she  miffht  be  delivered. 
She  brought  to  the  shrine  at  which  she  knelt 
substantial  promises  as  offerings.  Hers  were 
not  the  prayers  of  a  saint,  but  of  a  passion- 
ate, importunate  child,  self-willed  and  tem- 
pestuous. She  would  not  have  prayed  if  she 
could  have  hoped  for  help  from  any  earthly 
means.  She  had  never  prayed  for  anything 
before.  She  had  always  taken  what  she 
wanted  and  gone  her  way ;  but  she  had  had 
few  needs.  Now  in  this  strange  anguish  she 
could  do  nothing  for  herself,  and  surely  it  was 
the  place  of  the  Virgin  and  the  saints  to  help 
her.  She  stormed  the  painted  wax  figure  in 
its  niche  with  appeals  which  were  innocently 
like  demands. 

Make  him  come  back — make  him  come 
back  to  her.     Mother  of  God,  he  must  re- 


100      THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

turn !  Make  him  come  to  the  wall  some 
night — res,  to-night.  lie  must  not  know  that 
she  was  like  Sarita,  but  he  must  come ;  and 
whatsoever  she  did  or  said  he  must  not  go 
away  again.  She  would  sell  her  new  neck- 
lace ;  the  silver  comb  her  mother  had  left 
her — the  comb  her  father  had  given  her 
mother  in  the  days  of  their  courtship ;  she 
would  do  some  work,  and  give  to  the  Holy 
Mother  some  candles  and  flowers ;  but  he 
must  come  back,  and  he  must  not  go  away 
again  whatsoever  she  did. 

She  knelt  upon  the  stone  floor,  her  hands 
wrung  together,  pouring  forth  the  same 
words  breathlessly  over  and  over,  each  reit- 
eration more  intense  than  the  last,  all  her 
}Toung  strength  going  out  into  the  appeal. 

And  still  she  had  not  yet  reached  the 
point  of  knowing  wrhat  she  should  do  and 
say  when  he  came. 

When  she  tried  to  rise  to  her  feet  she  was 
obliged  to  make  two  efforts  before  she  sue- 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.     101 

ceeded.     She   had   given  such  a  passion  of 

strength  to  her  siege  that  she  was  almost  ex- 
es o 

hausted,  and  she  went  out  into  the  dazzling 
sunlight  trembling.  She  did  this  day  after 
day,  day  after  clay,  and  at  night  she  waited 
by  the  wall,  but  the  road  was  always  the 
same. 

And  she  could  hear  nothing — not  a  word. 
She  could  not  ask,  even  though  sometimes  as 
she  sat  and  gazed  at  Jose  with  hungry  e}Tes 
it  seemed  as  if  she  must  drop  dead  if  he  did 
not  speak.  But  he  did  not  speak  because  he 
could  have  told  her  but  little,  and  was  quite 
secure  in  his  belief  that  the  mere  mention  of 
Sebastiano's  name  angered  her. 

So  the  time  went  by — weeks  and  months 
— and  at  last  one  evening  she  went  to  the 
church  and  prayed  a  new  prayer. 

"  Sacred  Mother,"  she  said,  "  I  have  sold 
the  comb  and  the  necklace,  and  I  have 
worked  and  can  keep  my  word.  I  have 
bought  a  little  golden  heart.     And   if    he 


102     THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE-. 

comes  " — in  a  fainter  whisper — "  if  he  comes 
I  will  say  nothing  ill  to  him." 

That  night,  for  the  first  time,  she  heard  of 
Sebastiano. 

Little  Carlos  came  in  and  was  full  of  news. 

"  They  say  that  Sebastiano  has  had  great 
success,  and  that  perhaps  he  will  go  to 
America." 

"  Where  is  America  ?  "  asked  Jovita. 

"  It  is  at  the  other  end  of  the  world,  and 
never  yet  have  the  people  seen  a  bull-fight." 

"  Never  ? "  said  Jose,  staring.  "  That  is 
impossible ! " 

"  It  is  true,"  answered  Carlos.  "  And  they 
are  rich,  and  like  new  things ;  and  the  king 
has  spoken  of  sending  for  Sebastiano.  He 
will  be  rich  enough  to  build  a  palace  for  his 
old  age." 

A  few  days  later,  in  the  dusk  of  the  even- 
ing, there  crept  into  the  church  a  little 
figure  familiar  to  the  painted  saints  and  the 
waxen  Virgin.     But  to-da}7  it  wore  a  changed 


P 

S^W/  WHI|  I.       1Kb     flrla 


1 1  m 


wUvi//mi 


jfl«3iiii 
li  £IJRnfHE 


1  ilK 


■^TU 


■f-'3h^, 


-and  fell  upon  the  altar  steps   shuddering  and  sobbing  like  a   beaten   child. 


TEE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE.     103 

aspect.  It  moved  slowly  at  first,  reluc- 
tantly ;  the  brilliant  little  face  was  pale ;  the 
eyes  wild  with  torture.  A  moment  it  stood 
before  the  altar,  and  then  flung  up  its  arms 
with  a  fierce  gesture. 

"  Mother  of  God,"  it  cried,  brokenly, 
"  then  if  it  must  be  so — tell  him — tell  him 
that  I  am  like  Sarita ! "  and  fell  upon  the 
altar  steps  shuddering  and  sobbing  like  a 
beaten  child. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

And  yet  it  was  again  weeks  and  weeks 
before  she  heard  another  word.  In  those 
weeks  there  were  times  when  she  hated  Jose 
because  he  never  once  spoke  of  what  she 
wished  to  hear.  She  could  not  speak  her- 
self— she  could  not  ask  questions  ;  she  could 
only  wait  —  hungry  and  desolate.  They 
would  not  even  say — these  people — whether 
lie  had  gone  to  the  King  of  America  or  not; 
whether  he  was  at  the  other  end  of  the 
world,  or  whether  he  was  only  in  some  other 
city.  The  truth  was  that  Jose  had  inno- 
cently cautioned  the  others  against  speaking 
of  one  whom  Pepita  disliked  to  hear  of. 

"  She  does  not  like  him,"  he  said,  sorrow- 
fully. "Girls  are  like  that  sometimes.  It 
makes  her  anjrrv  when  one  talks  of  him." 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE.    105 

But  slow  as  he  was,  he  could  not  help  see- 
in"-  in  time  that  something  was  wrong  with 
Pepita.  Sometimes  she  scarcely  talked  at 
all,  and  she  did  not  flame  up  when  Jovita 
grumbled  ;  it  seemed  as  if  she  scarcely  heard. 
Her  eyes  had  grown  bigger,  too,  and  there 
was  a  burning  light  in  them.  They  always 
appeared  to  be  asking  something ;  often  he 
found  himself  obliged  to  look  up,  and  saw 
them  fixed  upon  him,  as  if  they  meant 
to  wrest  something  from  him.  The  care- 
less bird-like  look  had  gone,  the  careless 
bird-like  laughter  and  mocking.  He  began 
gradually  to  fancy  she  was  always  thinking 
of  something  that  hurt  and  excited  her. 
But  then  there  was  nothing.  She  had  all 
she  wanted.  She  had  as  many  trinkets  as 
the  other  girls  ;  she  had  even  more.  She 
had  so  little  work  to  do  that  she  had  sought 
some  outside  her  home  to  fill  her  spare 
moments,  and  she  loved  no  one.  There  was 
not  a  man  she  knew  who  would  not  have 


106     THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

come  if  she  had  smiled.  What,  then,  could 
it  be  ?  And  how  pretty  she  was !  Prettier 
than  ever ;  prettier  because  of  the  burning 
look  in  her  eyes,  and — and  something  else  he 
could  not  explain  ;  a  kind  of  restless  grace  of 
movement,  as  if  she  was  always  on  the  alert. 

"  Are  you  not  pleased  with  Madrid  any 
longer  ? "  he  asked  her  once. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered. 

"  Do  you  want  anything  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  he  said,  slowly,  and 
with  much  caution,  "  that  you  do  not  amuse 
yourself  as  you  did  at  first." 

"  It  is  not  so  new,"  she  said ;  "  but  there 
is  still  pleasure  enough."  And  for  a  moment 
she  kept  her  great  eager  eyes  fixed  upon 
him,  and  then  she  moved  slowly  toward  him 
and  touched  him  with  a  soft  touch  on  his 
big  clumsy  shoulder  and  said  :  "  You  are  a 
good  brother  !     You  are  a  good  brother  !  " 

"  I  have  alwavs  loved  you,"  he  said,  with 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE.     107 

simple  pride.  "  When  we  were  children, 
you  know  I  always  promised  that  you  should 
see  better  days." 

She  had  forgotten  to  count  the  weeks  and 
days,  or  to  take  note  of  the  changing  sea- 
sons, when  one  hot  day  in  the  early  summer 
he  came  in — Jose — with  an  innocent  joy  in 
his  face. 

He  looked  questioning!}^  at  Pepita  two  or 
three  times  and  then  coughed. 

"  You  will  not  mind  now,"  he  said.  "  It 
is  so  long  ago,  and  it  is  all  over.  Sebastiano 
has  come  back.  He  did  not  go  to  America ; 
he  is  in  Madrid  to-day.  He  came  to  me  in 
the  street ;  he  did  not  avoid  me ;  he  was 
rejoiced  to  see  me.  It  appears  that  it  is  all 
well  with  him.  Afterward  Manuel  told  me. 
It  appears  there  is  a  very  pretty  girl  he  met 
in  Lisbon — she  is  here  now.  It  is  said  he 
will  marry  her." 

Pepita  clinched  her  hands  and  stared  at 
him  with  eyes  that  burned  as  never  before. 


108     THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

"  It  is  not  true  ! "  she  said  through  her 
teeth.     "  It  is  not  true !  " 

Jose  fell  back  two  steps. 

"  Not  true  ? "  he  stammered.  "  Why  not  ? 
They  say  so." 

"A  man  who  slays  bulls  as  he  does," 
she  said,  "does  not  forget  a  woman  in  a 
day." 

Jose  was  lost  in  amazement. 

"  I  thought  you  believed  nothing  but  ill 
of  him,"  he  said.  "What  has  happened? 
You  are  angry — angry." 

"It  is  not  true  about  the  girl  from  Lis- 
bon," she  said.  "  It  is  a  lie  they  amuse  them- 
selves Avith." 

Never  had  innocent  Jose  been  so  thunder- 
struck. This  was  beyond  his  understanding. 
He  was  afraid  to  speak,  and  kept  looking 
sidewise  at  her  as  he  ate  his  soup ;  but  she 
said  no  more. 

"  What  has  happened  % "  he  said  to  him- 
self over  and   over  again.     "  Will   she  not 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.     109 

allow  him  to  marry  another,  though  she  does 
not  want  him  herself?  " 

Later  he  went  out  again.  It  must  be  con- 
fessed that  he  went  in  the  hope  of  seeing  Se- 
bastiano,  or  at  least  hearing  of  him.  There 
was  no  difficulty  in  hearing  of  him.  In  the 
wine-shops  and  at  the  street  corners  he  was 
being  talked  of  in  every  group.  Of  what 
else  could  people  speak  who  knew  he  had  re- 
turned ?  How  there  would  be  sport— how 
there  would  be  pleasure !  Life  began  to  wear 
a  more  vivacious  aspect.  And  what  had  he 
not  done  since  he  had  left  Madrid  ?  Such 
success — such  adulation  !  The  impression 
among  his  adorers  was  that  the  whole  world 
had  been  at  his  feet.  Here  and  there  one 
could  hear  snatches  of  song  of  which  his 
name  was  the  refrain.  It  was  only  because 
he  so  loved  his  own  people  that  he  had  re- 
fused the  magnificent  offers  made  bv  the 
King  of  America.  He  had  refused  them  ;  he 
had  chosen  to  remain  in  Spain.    He  had  come 


HO      THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

to  Madrid.  Soon  he  would  appear  before 
them  again.  He  had  even  gained  in  strength 
and  dexterity ;  and  as  to  his  good  looks — 
ah  !  what  a  dashing,  handsome  fellow  ! 

Jose  had  the  good  luck  to  see  him  again, 
even  to  speak  to  him.  What  fortune — what 
happiness!  The  honest  fellow  felt  himself 
overjoyed.     They  were  to  be  friends  again. 

It  was  quite  late  when  he  found  himself 
walking  homeward  over  the  white  road 
again.  He  had  drunk  wine  enough  to  make 
him  feel  quite  gay  ;  and  as  he  went  he  sang 
now  and  then  a  verse  of  a  song  about  the 
joys  of  the  bull-fight. 

"When  he  was  about  half-way  home  he 
thought  he  heard  behind  him  the  sound  of 
rapid  feet — light  feet  running.  He  stopped 
and  looked  back.  What  was  it  he  saw,  or 
thought  he  saw  ?  Was  it  a  small  dark  shape 
which  flitted  instantly  into  the  shadow  of  the 
trees  ?  It  looked  like  a  woman  who  did  not 
wish  to  be  seen.     Well,  he  would  not  look, 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE,     m 

then.  What  was  the  use  of  giving  her 
trouble  ?  He  tramped  on,  perhaps  a  little 
more  slowly.  It  was  late  for  a  woman  to 
be  out  on  the  lonely  road  alone.  It  must  be 
past  midnight.  Then  the  thought  came  to 
him  that  perhaps  she  wished  to  pass  him. 
In  that  case  he  might  look  the  other  way,  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  road.  In  fact,  he 
crossed  to  the  other  side  to  leave  the  way 
clear,  and  went  on  good-naturedly,  singing 
his  song  loudly  and  all  out  of  tune.  Yes,  he 
had  been  right.  Soon  the  footsteps  drew 
nearer ;  the  shadow  within  the  shadow 
slipped  past — ran  swiftly.  But  by  that  time 
they  were  nearing  his  home,  and  there  was  a 
stretch  of  road  unshaded  by  anything.  The 
shadow  hesitated,  darted  across  the  white 
space,  and  Jose,  seeing  it  in  the  full  light, 
uttered  a  cry,  and  started  in  pursuit.  In  but 
a  few  moments  he  had  reached  it  and  held 
it  by  the  arm,  feeling  all  the  slender  body 
breathless  and  panting. 


112     THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

"  Pepita  ! "  he  cried.     "  It  is  you  ? " 

She  let  the  mantilla  drop  from  her  face 
and  stood  and  looked  at  him. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  it  is  Pepita ;  and 
you  need  not  ask — 1  will  not  tell  you.  I 
have  been  to — to  look  at  something — and  I 
will  tell  you  nothing." 

He  put  his  hand  up  and  rubbed  his  fore- 
head violently.     Then  he  let  it  drop. 

"  I  shall  not  ask,"  he  said.  "  You  would 
do  no  wrong.  You  are  a  good  girl; 
but—" 

"  You  think  I  have  gone  mad,"  she  said, 
with  a  sudden  change  of  voice  and  a  piteous 
little  shiver.  "Who  knows?  Perhaps  some 
one  has  cast  the  evil-eye  upon  me.  But  I 
have  done  no  harm,  and  I  shall  do  none." 

"  No,"  he  said,  rather  stupidly.  "  You 
would  do  no  harm.     Let  us  go  in,  then." 

And  without  another  word  they  went  into 
the  house,  Pepita  to  her  bed  to  lie  awake 
and  gaze  at  the  darkness,  Jose  to  sit  with  his 


In   a   few    moments   he   had    reached    it,    and    held    it   by   tne   arm,    feeling 
slender  body    breathless  and   panting. 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.      H3 

head  in  his  hands  and  thinking  a  thousand 
wild  thoughts  until  he  fell  asleep. 

He  could  not  know  that  where  he  had  been 
she  had  been  also;  that  when  the  snatches  of 
song  had  been  sung  she  had  heard  them ;  that 
when  the  people  had  talked  of  Sebastiano 
she  had  listened ;  that  when  Sebastiano  had 
stood  in  the  bright  light  she  had  stood  in  the 
shadow  and  watched.  She  had  not  thought 
of  danger  or  of  being  discovered.  She  had 
only  thought  of  one  thing  and  listened  for 
one  thing — and  once  she  had  heard  this  thing 
discussed  by  some  chattering  young  chulos. 

"  She  is  a  pretty  young  girl,"  they  said. 
"  Not  as  pretty  as  that  other,  but  handsome 
enough.  She  was  a  little  devil,  that  other. 
But  it  is  a  mistake  for  a  man  like  him  to 
marry.  How  can  a  man  feel  free  to  risk  his 
life  gayly  when  he  has  a  woman  hung  about 
his  neck  ?  " 

Pepita  had  leaned  against  the  wall,  putting 
her  hand  to  her  throat. 


114      THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

"He  will  not,"  she  whispered,  growing 
hot  all  over.  "  Xo,  he  has  not  forgotten.  I 
have  given  the  little  heart  and  the  flowers 
and  candles.  And  he  could  not  forget  while 
I —     lie  will  come  hack." 

She  struggled  with  the  passionate  per- 
sistence of  a  child.  Since  she  would  not  give 
him  up,  he  was  hers. 

But  she  did  not  know  what  to  do.  There 
was  nothing  but  to  wait  in  this  fever  of 
strange  misery  and  unrest,  which  grew  more 
cruel  every  day  ;  and  at  the  bull-fight  if  he 
would  only  look — perhaps — yes,  if  he  saw 
her  face,  he  would  understand  and  come. 

In  the  days  before  the  great  entertainment 
took  place  she  was  like  some  little  savage 
creature  at  bay.  She  could  scarcely  bear  to 
hear  the  voices  of  those  who  spoke  to  her. 
Once  she  went  into  the  church  and  threw 
herself  upon  her  knees  as  usual,  but  when 
she  looked  up  her  eyes  were  fierce. 

"  If  he  does  not  come,"  she  cried  to  the 


"  She   is    a   pretty    young   girl,"   they    said.      "  Not   as    pretty    as   that  other, 
but   handsome   enough." 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.      115 

waxen  Virgin,  "  I  will  pray  to  you  no  more 
— no  more." 

She  knew  that  it  was  blasphemy,  but  she 
did  not  care ;  and  before  she  went  home  she 
bought  a  sharp  little  knife  and  hid  it  in  her 
breast. 

"  This,"  she  whispered,  "  this — if  it  is  true 
about  the  girl  from  Lisbon  ;  but  it  is  not 
true." 

For  many  years  afterward  the  day  of  the 
great  bull-fight  was  remembered.  No  one 
who  saw  it  forgot  it  as  long  as  he  lived. 
Affairs  used  to  date  from  it  in  the  minds  of 
many. 

A  year  had  passed  since  that  first  brilliant 
day  when  Pepita  had  gone  forth  in  her  first 
festal  dress.  She  remembered  it  all  as  she 
dressed  herself  on  this  other  morning.  The 
same  day  seemed  to  have  come  again ;  the 
same  sunshine  and  deep  blue  sky.  There 
were  the  same  flowers  nodding  their  heads ; 
Jovita  was  grumbling  a  little  in  her  haste, 


116     THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

just  as  she  had  done  then  ;  and  in  the  look- 
ing-glass there  was  the  same  little  figure  in 
the  bright  attire — the  soft  black  hair,  the 
red  rose,  the  red  mouth.  As  she  looked,  a 
sudden  triumph  made  her  radiant. 

"  I  have  not  grown  ugly,"  she  said. 

No,  she  had  not  grown  ugly.  She  was 
too  young  and  strong  for  that,  and  excite- 
ment had  flushed  her  into  new  brilliance. 

"When  she  found  herself  seated  among  the 
fluttering  fans  of  rainbow  colors,  that  mo- 
ment's glow  of  exultation  left  her.  Strangely 
enough,  she  could  not  help  thinking  of  the 
empty  church  and  the  waxen  figure  before 
which  she  had  knelt,  and  then  of  the  nights 
when  she  had  stood  watching  by  the  wall, 
and  then  of  the  sharp  little  knife  in  her 
breast.  And  then  came  the  clamor  of  the 
music  and  the  grand  entry  of  the  moving 
stream  of  color  and  glitter  dazzling  her  eyes. 
No ;  just  at  first  she  had  not  the  power  to 
look.     Could   it   be   she — Pepita — who   felt 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.      Hf 

dizzy  and  could  not  see  ?  who  could  distin- 
guish nothing  in  the  splendid  panorama  of 
the  triumphal  march  ?  And  what  clamor, 
what  excitement  there  was  on  every  side! 
"  What  bulls  !  What  men  !  "  they  were  say- 
ing about  her. 

Only  she  seemed,  in  the  midst  of  all  the 
loud-voiced  eagerness  and  delight,  to  sit  alone, 
a  cold  little  figure  vaguely  tormented  by  the 
gayety  and  the  voices  and  the  color  of  flut- 
tering fans  and  ribbons  and  costumes.  The 
deep  rose  had  fled  from  her  face  ;  she  sat 
with  her  hands  wrung  on  her  knee  and  waited 
for  one  moment  to  come. 

The  great  bull  ran  bellowing  around  the 
arena ;  little  beribboned  darts  were  flung  at 
him  and  stuck  in  his  shaggy  shoulders  ;  bril- 
liant cloaks  were  flaunted  in  his  face ;  taunt- 
ing cries  mocked  him.  He  charged  hither 
and  thither  in  blind  fury,  scattering  men 
and  horses,  who  only  returned  again  to  the 
attack. 


118      THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

"  It  takes  too  long,"  communed  Pepita. 
"  It  takes  too  long." 

And  then  the  voices  began  to  call  for  Sebas- 
tiano.  "  Sebastiano  !  Sebastiano!  "  on  every 
side — even  the  grand  ladies  and  their  cava- 
liers clapping  their  hands  and  calling  also. 
The  beauties  in  the  high  places  were  always 
ready  to  see  him  come,  and  to  give  him  a  wel- 
come when  he  risked  his  life  to  amuse  them. 

He  stepped  forth  in  his  rich  dress  and 
with  his  gallant  bearing,  a  more  beautiful 
and  gay  figure  than  ever,  it  seemed  the  ex- 
cited people  thought.  lie  had  grown  finer, 
without  doubt,  they  said.  His  face  was  a 
little  pale,  but  that  only  made  more  beauti- 
ful his  long  dark  eyes,  under  their  dense, 
straight,  black  lashes.  It  wras  the  women 
who  said  this,  and  who  saw  the  richness  of 
his  dress,  the  colors  of  his  devisa,  the  close 
curl  of  his  crisp  hair,  the  grace  of  his  move- 
ment. The  men  saw  his  superb  limbs,  his 
firm  step,  his  quick  glance,  his  bright  sword. 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.     119 

"  Come,  little  slayer  of  bulls,"  they  shouted, 
"  and  show  us  what  you  would  have  taught 
the  people  of  America." 

And  it  appeared  they  were  not  to  be 
disappointed  in  their  expectation  of  sport. 
They  saw  that  when  he  stood  before  the  bull 
and  made  a  little  mocking  bow  of  salute,  he 
looked  into  its  small,  furious  eyes  with  a 
smile,  as  it  drew  near — a  bellowing  black 
mass,  snorting  and  throwing  up  the  dust. 
It  was  as  ready  to  begin  as  he.  It  rushed 
upon  him,  and  he  was  gone.  He  played 
with  it,  led  it  on,  defied  it,  eluded  it.  The 
flashing  sword  seemed  to  become  a  score  of 
glittering  blades  ;  the  people  shouted — rose 
in  their  seats — leaned  forward — laughed  — 
mocked  the  bull — cried  out  praises  of  sword 
and  man  and  beast — of  each  leap — each 
touch  of  the  steel's  point. 

'•  He  plays  with  it  as  if  it  were  a  little 
lamb,"  they  cried.  "  Sebastiano !  Sebas- 
tiano ! " 


120     THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

Of  what  use  to  tell  what  must  be  seen 
in  all  its  danger  to  be  understood  1  The  joy 
and  exultation  rose  to  fierce  fever-heat,  the 
cries  swelled  higher,  faces  flushed  and  eyes 
sparkled  and  flamed,  while  the  brilliant  fig- 
ure darted,  leaped,  attacked,  played  with 
death  as  it  had  done  scores  of  times  before. 

Only  Pepita  sat  without  color  or  applause 
— only  Pepita's  fan  was  motionless  amidst 
all  the  fluttering — though  her  breast  moved 
up  and  down,  and  the  throbbing  in  her  side 
was  like  the  beating  of  a  hammer.  She  was 
speaking  to  herself,  though  her  lips  were 
closed  ;  she  was  speaking  to  Sebastiano. 

"  He  will  look  soon,"  she  was  saying. 
"  He  will  look  as  he  did  that  first  day.  My 
eyes  will  make  him  look.  The}7  will  force 
him  to  it.  Listen !  it  is  Pepita  whose  eyes 
are  on  you.  You  must  feel  them.  You 
have  not  forgotten.  ]No.  And  it  is  Pepita 
—Pepita !  " 

All  the  strength  of  her  body  and  soul  she 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.     121 

threw  into  her  gaze — all  the  fire  of  her 
young  wildly  beating  heart  and  throbbing 
pulses. 

"  You  must  hear,"  she  said.  "  Pepita  ! 
Pepita ! " 

And  unconsciously  she  leaned  forward  so 
that  her  white  face  and  great  eyes,  and  the 
little  black  head  with  the  rose  burning  in  its 
hair,  stood  out  among  the  faces  of  those 
about  her. 

And  he  looked  up  and  saw  her,  and  their 
eyes  met ;  and  without  knowing  she  started 
to  her  feet. 

No  one  knew,  no  one  but  herself  saw,  how 
it  happened :  even  she  did  not  understand 
until  all  was  past.  Their  eyes  met,  as  they 
had  done  on  the  day  a  year  before.  No,  not 
as  they  had  done  then,  but  with  a  strange 
new  look.  Sebastiano  started ;  the  arena 
swam  before  him ;  there  was  a  second — a 
fatal  second  in  which  he  saw  only  a  small 
face  without  color  and   the  red  rose  which 


122     THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

was  the  color  of  blood.  Then  there  was  a 
roar  near  him — a  roar  among  the  people — 
a  wild  shriek  from  the  women.  The  bull 
was  upon  him ;  he  made  a  misstep,  and  was 
caught,  amid  the  shrieks  and  bellows,  and 
flung  inert  far  out  upon  the  hoof-trodden 
dust  with  the  blood  pouring  from  his  side. 

"  But,"  they  said  in  the  wine-shops  at 
night.  "  when  they  took  him  up,  though 
they  thought  him  gasping  in  death,  he  had 
not  lost  himself  ;  and  as  they  carried  him 
out  they  came  upon  a  girl — the  one  who  is 
called  '  the  pretty  sister  of  Jose  ' — her  bro- 
ther was  taking  her  away.  She  looked  like 
one  dead  three  days  ;  and  Sebastiano — there 
is  a  man  for  you  ! — tore  the  devisa  from  his 
shoulder  and  dropped  it  at  her  feet ;  and  she 
snatched  it  up — all  wet  with  his  blood — and 
thrust  it  in  her  breast,  and  dropped  like  a 
stone.  It  is  said  that  he  loved  her,  and  she 
had  a  devil  of  a  temper  and  treated  him 
badly.     He  is  a  good  fellow — her  brother 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.     123 

Jose — and  wept  like  a  child  for  Sebastiano, 
and  has  begged  to  be  allowed  to  nurse  him, 
and  Sebastiano  will  have  it  so." 

"  I  am  strong  as  an  ox,"  Jose  had  said, 
weeping.  "  I  can  watch  like  a  dog.  I  want 
neither  sleep  nor  food,  if  it  comes  to  that ; 
and  once  when  one  of  my  comrades  fell 
from  a  scaffold  I  was  the  only  one  who  could 
nurse  him  without  killing  him  with  the  pain. 
He  will  tell  you  that  I  nursed  him  well,  and 
was  never  tired." 

kk  Let  him  stay,"  said  Sebastiano. 

In  his  struggle  with  death,  which  lasted 
so  long,  it  was  always  the  large  form  and 
simple,  anxious  face  of  Jose  he  saw  when  he 
knew  what  passed  around  him,  and  even 
when  the  fever  brought  him  delirious  visions 
he  was  often  vaguely  conscious  of  his  pres- 
ence. For  himself,  he  did  not  know  whether 
he  was  to  live  or  die ;  but  one  night  he  found 
out. 

It  was  a  beautiful  night  which  came  after 


124     THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE. 

a  long  day  in  which  those  about  his  bed  had 
looked  at  him  with  pitying  eyes,  and  at  last 
a  priest  had  come  and  absolved  him  of  his 
sins,  and  left  him  with  a  solemn,  kindly 
blessing,  with  a  soul  clear  of  stain  and  ready 
for  paradise. 

He  had  fallen  asleep  afterward,  and  had 
dreamed  not  of  heaven  but  of  earth,  of  a 
red  rose  in  soft  black  hair,  and  of  a  passion- 
ate little  face  whose  large  eyes  glowed  upon 
him. 

And  suddenly  he  was  wide  awake,  and 
found  his  dream  a  living  truth. 

Jose  was  no  longer  in  the  room.  The 
moonlight  made  everything  clear,  and  upon 
the  floor  beside  him  knelt  Pepita,  her  eyes 
fixed  upon  his. 

k'  Dios  !  Dios !  "  he  murmured. 

"  Hush  !  "  she  said.  "  Do  not  speak.  It 
is  Pepita.  Look  at  me.  They  said  that 
perhaps  to-night  you  would  die.  I  have 
prayed  until  I  can  pray  no  more,  and  when 


"     ,     .  fe  i 


■ 


Deos  !    Deos!''     he   murmured. 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.      125 

I  came  to  Jose  the  tears  were  falling  from 
his  eyes,  and  he  said  perhaps  you  would 
not  see  the  day.  Then  I  showed  him  the 
little  knife  hidden  in  my  breast,  and  told 
him  if  he  did  not  let  me  come  to  you  alone 
I  would  not  live.  I  said  I  could  force  you 
to  remain  on  earth.  I  love  you — I  love  you. 
It  has  all  happened,  that  which  you  said 
would  happen ;  and  when  the  devisa  fell  at 
my  feet  I  hid  it  in  my  breast  with  the  other 
which  was  there  before.  And  because  I  love 
you  so,  you  cannot  die.  I  will  do  anything 
you  say  I  must  do.  1  am  Pepita.  and  I  give 
myself  to  you.  I  would  give  my  blood  and 
my  life  and  my  soul  for  you.  Every  night 
I  have  waited  by  the  wall  in  the  hope  that 
you  would  come.  I  have  watched  you 
when  you  did  not  see  me.  If  you  had  not 
come  I  should  have  killed  myself ;  if  you 
die,  I  wiU  drive  the  knife  to  its  hilt  in  my 
heart.  I  can  love  more  than  those  women 
who  love  so   easily  and  so   often.     I  knew 


126     THE  PRETTY  SISTER  OF  JOSE. 

nothing  about  it  when  I  was  so  proud  and 
mocked  you.  I  know  now.  Mother  of 
God  !  it  is  like  a  thousand  deaths  when  one 
cannot  see  the  face  one  wants.  What 
hunger  night  and  day! — one  is  driven  mad 
by  it !  " 

She  bent  more  closely  over  him,  crushing 
his  unwounded  hand  against  her  heart — 
searching  his  soul  with  her  look. 

,k  They  said  there  was  a  girl  in  Lisbon 
whom  you  loved,"  she  said.  "  I  knew  it  was 
a  lie." 

"  Yes,"  he  whispered,  "  it  was  a  lie.  Kiss 
me  on  the  mouth." 

His  arm  curved  itself  around  her  neck, 
and  the  red  lips  which  had  mocked  melted 
upon  his  own. 

,k  Did  you  suffer  ?  "  he  murmured. 

She  began  to  sob  like  a  child,  as  she  had 
sobbed  at  the  feet  of  the  Yirgin. 

"  I  told  you  that  you  would  suffer  !  It 
was   the   same   thin"-   with   me.     Saints   of 


THE  PRETTY  SISTER   OF  JOSE.      127 

Heaven !  human  beings  cannot  bear  that 
long.  I  shall  not  die,  and  I  will  make  you 
forget  the  pain.  Stay  with  me,  and  let  me 
see  your  eyes  and  touch  your  lips  every 
hour,  that  I  may  know  you  are  Pepita,  and 
that  you  have  given  yourself  to  me." 

"  I  will  stay  through  all  the  day  and 
night,"  she  answered.  "They  cannot  make 
me  go  away  if  I  do  not  wish  it.  They 
always  give  me  my  way.  I  have  always 
had  it — the  Virgin  herself  has  given  it  to 
me." 

It  seemed  this  was  true.  In  a  few  months 
from  then  the  people  who  strolled  in  the 
Public  Garden  on  Sunday  looked  at  a  beau- 
tiful young  couple  who  walked  together. 

"There  are  two  who  are  mad  with  love 
for  each  other,"  it  was  said.  "  Sebastiano 
and  his  wife.  She  is  the  one  he  threw  his 
devisa  to  when  he  thought  himself  a  dead 
man.  They  used  to  call  her  '  the  pretty  sis- 
ter of  Jose.'  " 


B 


RIEF  LIST  OF  BOOKS  OF  FICTION 
PUBLISHED  BY  CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S 
SONS,    743-745    BROADWAY,    NEW  YORK. 


Mary  Adams. 

AN   HONORABLE  SURRENDER.     (l6mo    $1.00.) 

"The  story  belongs  distinctly  to  the  realistic  school  of  modern 
fiction.  The  situations  are  those  of  every  day.  The  characters  are 
not  in  the  least  eccentric  ;  the  dialogue  is  never  extravagant  ;  the 
descriptive  and  analytical  passages  are  neither  obtrusive  nor  too 
prolix.  The  sum  of  all  these  negations  is  a  charming  book,  full  of 
a  genuine  human  interest." — The  Portland  Advertiser. 

William  Waldorf  Astor. 

VALENTINO:    An   Historical   Romance.     (l2mo,   $1.00.) 

"It  is  well  called  a  romance,  and  no  romance  indeed  could  be 
more  effective  than  the  extraordinary  extract  from  Italian  annals  of 
the  i6th  Century  which  it  preserves  in  such  vivid  colors.  The 
incidents  ar°  presented  with  dramatic  art.  The  movement  o(  the 
story  never  drags." — The  New  York  Tribune. 

Arlo  Bates. 

A  WHEEL  OF  FIRE.     d2mo,   $1.00.) 

"The  novel  deals  with  character  rather  than  incident,  and  is 
evolved  from  one  of  the  most  terrible  of  moral  problems  with  a 
subtlety  not  unlike  that  of  Hawthorne.  One  cannot  enumerate  all 
the  fine  points  of  artistic  skill  which  make  this  study  so  wonderful 
in  its  insight,  so  rare  in  its  combination  of  dramatic  power  and 
tenderness." — The  Critic. 

Hjalmar  H.  Boyesen. 

FALCCNBERG.  Illustrated  (l2mo,  $1.50)— GUNNAR.  (Sq.  l2mo,  $1.25) — 
TALES  FROM  TWO  HEMISPHERES.  (Sq.  l2mo,  $1.00)— ILKA  ON 
THE  HILL  TOP,  and  Other  Stories.  (Sq  l2mo,  $1.00)— QUEEN  TITANIA 
(Sq.  l2mo,   $1.00). 

"Mr.  Boyesen's  stories  possess  a  sweetness,  a  tenderness,  and  a 
drollery  that  are  fascinating,  and  yet  they  are  no  more  attractive 
than  they  are  strong." — The  Home  Journal. 


SCRIBNER'S    BRIEF    LIST    OF    FICTION 


H.  C.  Banner. 

THE  STORY  OF  A  NEW  YORK  HOUSE.  Illustrated  by  A.  B.  Frost  (l2mo, 
$1.25)  -THE  MIDGE.  (l2mo,  $1.00)— IN  PARTNERSHIP.  With  Brander 
Matthews  d2mo,  paper,  50  cts.;  cloth,  $1.00). 

"  It  is  Mr.  Burner's  delicacy  of  touch  and  appreciation  of  «hat 
is  literary  art  that  give  his  writings  distinctive  quality.  Everything 
Mr.  Bunner  paints  shows  the  happy  appreciation  of  an  author  who 
has  not  alone  mental  discernment,  hut  the  artistic  appreciation. 
The  author  and  the  artist  both  supplement  one  another  in  this  ex- 
cellent '  Story  of  a  New  York  House.'  " —  The  New  York  Times. 


France*  Hodgson  Burnett. 

THAT  LASS  0'  LOWRIE'S.  Illustrated  (paper,  50  cents;  cloth,  $1.25)— 
HAWORTH'S.  Illustrated  (l2mo,  $1.25)— THROUGH  ONE  ADMINISTRA- 
TION. (l2mo,  $1.50)—  LOUISIANA.  (l2mo,  $1.25)— A  FAIR  BARBARIAN. 
(l2mo,   $1.25)— SURLY  TIM,  and  Other  Stories  (l2mo,   $1.25  . 

The  above  6  vols. .  in  uniform  binding,  $7 .30  per  set. 

LITTLE  LORD  FAUNTLEROY.  Illustrated  by  R.  B.  Birch  (Sq.  8vo,  $2  00)— 
SARA  CREWE;  or,  What  Happened  at  Miss  Minchin's  Illustrated  by 
R.  B.  Birch  (Sq.  8vo,  $1.00). 

Earlier  Stories  by  the  same  author,  each  i6mo,  paper  covers. 

LINDSAY'S  LUCK  (30  cts.)— PRETTY  POLLY  PEMBERTON  (40  cts.)- 
KATHLEEN  (40  cts.)— THEO  (30  cts.)-MISS  CRESPIGNY  (30  cts.). 

"  Mrs.  Burnett  discovers  gracious  secrets  in  rough  and  forbidding 
natures — the  sweetness  that  often  underlies  their  bitterness — the  soul 
of  goodness  in  things  evil.  She  seems  to  have  an  intuitive  percep- 
tion of  character.  If  we  apprehend  her  personages,  and  I  think  we 
do  clearly,  it  is  not  because  she  describes  them  to  us,  but  because 
they  reveal  themselves  in  their  actions.  Mrs.  Burnett's  characters 
are  as  veritable  as  Thackeray's." — Richard  Henry  Stoddard. 


William  Allen  Butler. 

DOMES    ICUS.     A  Tale  of  the  Imperial  City     (l2nrto,  $1.25.). 

"  Under  a  veil  made  intentionally  transparent,  the  author  main- 
tains a  running  fire  of  good-natured  hits  at  contemporary  social 
follies.  There  is  a  delicate  love  story  running  through  the  book. 
The  author's  style  is  highly  finished.  One  might  term  it  old-fashioned 
in  its  exquisite  choiceness  and  precision." — The  New  York  Journal 
of  Commerce. 


SCRIBNER'S    BRIEF    LIST    OF    FICTION. 


George  IV.  Cable. 

THE  GRANDISSIMES.  (l2mo,  $1.25)— OLD  CREOLE  DAYS.  (l2mo,  cloth, 
$1.25;  also  in  two  parts,  l6mo,  cloth,  each,  75  cts.;  paper,  each,  30  cts.) — 
DR.  SEVIER.  (l2mo,  paper,  50  cts.;  cloth,  $1.25)— BONAVENTURE.  A 
Prose  Pastoral  of  Acadian  Louisiana  (l2mo,  $1.25). 

The  set,  4  vols.,  $3.00. 

"There  are  few  living  American  writers  who  can  reproduce  for 
us  more  perfectly  than  Mr.  Cable  does,  in  his  best  moments,  the 
speech,  the  manners,  the  whole  social  atmosphere  of  a  remote  time 
and  a  peculiar  people.  A  delicious  flavor  of  humor  penetrates  his 
stories,  and  the  tragic  portions  are  handled  with  rare  strength." — The 
New  York  Tribune. 

Mary  Mapes  Dodge. 

THEOPHILUS  AND  OTHERS.     (l2mo,  $1.50.) 

"  Mrs.  Dodge  has  a  marked  gift  of  being  constantly  entertaining. 
There  is  a  certain  spiciness  and  piquancy  of  flavor  in  her  work  which 
makes  even  the  slightest  things  that  come  from  her  pen  pleasant  and 
profitable  reading." — The  New  York  Evening  Post. 

Edward  Eggleston. 

ROXY.  Illustrated  (l2mo,  $1.50)— THE  CIRCUIT  RIDER.  Illustrated  (l2mo, 
$1.50)— THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOLMASTER.  Illustrated  (l2mo,  $1.25) — 
THE  MYSTERY  OF  METROPOLISVILLE.  Illustrated  (l2mo,  $1  50)-THE 
END  OF  THE  WORLD.     Illustrated  (l2mo,  $1.50). 

The  set,  3  vols.,  $7.23. 

"Dr.  Eggleston's  career  as  a  novelist  has  been  a  peculiar  one. 
His  first  work  achieved  a  swift  and  unmistakable  success.  Its  fresh 
and  vivid  portraiture  of  a  phase  of  life  and  manners,  hitherto  almost 
unrepresented  in  literature ;  its  boldly  contrasted  characters  ;  its 
unconventional,  hearty,  religious  spirit,  and  its  reflection  of  the 
vigorous  individuality  of  the  author,  took  hold  of  the  public  imagina- 
tion."—  The  Christian  Union. 

Erckmann-Chatrian. 

FRIEND  FRITZ-THE  CONSCRIPT.  Illustrated— WATERLOO.  Illustrated 
(Sequel  to  The  Conscript)— MADAME  THERESE— THE  BLOCKADE  OF 
PHALSBURG.  Illustrated— THE  INVASION  OF  FRANCE  IN  1814.  Illus- 
trated—A MILLER'S  STORY  OF  THE  WAR.     Illustrated. 

Each,  i2»io,  $1.23. 

"  Not  only  are  these  stories  interesting  historically,  but  intrin- 
sically they  present  pleasant,  well-constructed  plots,  serving  in  each 
case  to  connect  the  great  events  which  they  so  graphically  treat." — 
The  Philadelphia  Inquirer. 


SCRIBNER'S    BRIEF     LIST    OF    FICTION 


Harold  Frederic. 

SETH'S  BROTHERS  WIFE.     (l2mo,  $1.25.) 

"A  novel  that  stands  out  in  clear  relief  against  the  fiction  of  the 
rime.  It  is  made  of  tangible  stuff,  is  serious  without  being  heavy, 
brisk  and  interesting  without  being  flippant  ;  takes  hold  of  real  life 
with  an  easy  yet  firm  and  confident  grasp  that  denotes  judicial  habits 
of  thought  as  well  as  a  comfortable  mastery  of  the  literary  medium." 
—  The  Brooklyn  Times. 

Robert  Grant. 

FACE  TO  FACE.     <l2mo,  paper,  50  cents:  cloth,  $1.25.) 

"  This  is  a  well-told  story,  the  interest  of  which  turns  upon  a  game 
of  cross  purposes  between  an  accomplished  English  girl,  posing  as  a 
free  and  easy  American  Daisy  Miller,  and  an  American  gentleman, 
somewhat  given  to  aping  the  manners  of  the  English." — The 
Buffalo  Express. 

Edward  Everett  Hale. 

PHILIP  NOLAN'S  FRIENDS.     Illustrated  (l2mo,  $1.75). 

"  There  is  no  question,  we  think,  that  this  is  Mr.  Hale's  com- 
pletest  and  best  novel.  The  characters  are  for  the  most  part  well 
drawn,  and  several  of  them  are  admirable." — The  Atlantic  Monthly. 

A  \arion  Hart  and. 

JUDITH:    A  Chronicle  of  O  d  Virginia.     (l2mo,  paper,  50  cts.;  cloth,  $l  00) 
—HANDICAPPED  (l2mo,  $1.50). 

"  Fiction  has  afforded  no  more  charming  glimpses  of  old  Virginia 
life  than  are  found  in  this  delightful  story,  with  its  quaint  pictures, 
its  admirably  drawn  characters,  its  wit,  ar.d  its  frankness." — The 
Brooklyn  Daily  Times. 

Joel  Chandler  Harris. 

FREE  JOE,  and  Other  Georgian  Sketches.     (l2mo,  $1.00.) 

"The  author's  skill  as  a  story  writer  has  never  been  more  felic- 
itously illustrated  than  in  this  volume.  The  title  story  is  meagre 
almost  to  baldness  in  incident,  but  its  quaint  humor,  its  simple  but 
broadly  outlined  characters,  and,  above  all,  its  touching  pathos, 
combine  to  make  it  a  masterpiece  of  its  kind. " —  The  jVew  York  Sun. 

Augustus  Allen  Hayes. 

THE   JESUIT'S    RING.     A   Romance  of  Mount  Desert  (l2mo.   paper,  50  cts.; 
cloth,   $1.00). 

"The  conception  of  the  story  is  excellent.  It  indicates  a  scholarly 
research,  a  sensitiveness  to  artistic  literary  effect,  and  a  fine  power 
of  selection  in  material." — The  Boston  Traveller. 


SCRIBNER'S    BRIEF    LIST    OF    FICTION. 


E.   T.  IV.  Hoffmann. 

WEIRD  TALES.     With  Portrait  (l2mo,  2  vols.,  $3.00). 

"  Hoffmann  knew  how  to  construct  a  ghost  story  quite  as  skilfully 
as  Poe,  and  with  a  good  deal  more  sense  of  reality.  All  those  who 
are  in  search  of  a  genuine  literary  sensation,  or  who  care  for  the 
marvelous  and  supernatural,  will  find  these  two  volumes  fascinating 
reading." — The  Christian  Union. 

Dr.  J.  G.  Holland. 

SEVEN    OAKS— THE    BAY    PATH— ARTHUR    BONN  I  CASTLE— MISS    GIL- 
BERTS CAREER     NICHOLAS  MINTURN. 

Each,  12)110,  %I.2S J  the  set,  %6.2$. 
"  Dr.  Holland  will  always  find  a  congenial  audience  in  the  homes 
of  culture  and  refinement.  He  does  not  affect  the  play  ot  the  darker 
and  fiercer  passions,  but  delights  in  the  sw_eet  images  that  cluster 
around  the  domestic  hearth.  He  cherishes  a  strong  fellow-feeling 
with  the  pure  and  tranquil  life  in  the  modest  social  circles  of  the 
American  people,  and  has  thus  won  his  way  to  the  companionship 
of  many  friendly  hearts." — -The  New  York  Tribune. 

Thomas,  A.  Janvier. 

COLOR  STUDIES.     (l2mo,  $1.00.) 

"  Piquant,  novel,  and  ingenious,  these  little  stories,  with  all  their 
simplicity,  have  excited  a  wide  interest.  The  best  of  them,  '  Jaune 
D'Antimoine,'  is  a  little  wonder  in  its  dramatic  effect,  its  ingenious 
construction." — The  Critic. 

Virginia  IV.  Johnson. 

THE  FAINALLS  OF  TIPTON.     (l2mo,  $1.25., 

"  The  plot  is  good,  and  in  its  working-out  original.  Character- 
drawing  is  Miss  Johnson's  recognized  forte,  and  her  pen-sketches  of 
the  inventor,  the  checker-playing  clergyman  and  druggist,  the 
rising  young  doctor,  the  sentimental  painter,  the  rival  grocers,  etc. , 
are  quite  up  to  her  best  work." — The  Boston  Commonwealth. 

Lieut.  J.  D.  J.  Kelley. 

A  DESPERATE  CHANCE.     (l2mo,  paper,  50  cts.;    cloth,  $1.00.) 

"  This  novel  is  of  the  good  old-fashioned,  exciting  kind.  Though 
it  is  a  sea  story,  all  the  action  is  not  on  board  ship.  There  is  a 
well-developed  mystery,  and  while  it  is  in  no  sense  sensational, 
readers  may  be  assured  that  they  will  not  be  tired  out  by  analytical 
descriptions,  nor  will  they  find  a  dull  page  from  first  to  last." — The 
Brooklyn  Union. 

The  King's  Men  : 

A  TALE  OF  TO-MORROW.     By  Robert  Grant,  John  Boyle  O'Reilly,  J.  S., 
of  Dale,  and  John  T.  Wheelwright.     (!2mo,  $1.25.) 


6  SCRIBNER'S    BRIEF    LIST    OF    FICTION. 

Andrew  Lang. 

THE  MARK  OF  CAIN.     <l2mo,  paper,  25  cts.;    cloth,  75  cts. ) 

"  No  one  can  deny  that  it  is  crammed  as  full  of  incident  as  it  will 
hold,  or  that  the  elaborate  plot  is  worked  out  with  most  ingenious 
perspicuity." — The  Saturday  Review. 

George  P.  Lathrop. 

NEWPORT.  (l2mo,  paper,  50  cts.;  cloth,  $1.25)— AN  ECHO  OF  PASSION. 
(l2mo,  paper,  50  cts.;  cloth,  $1.00) — IN  THE  DISTANCE.  (l2mo,  paper, 
50  cts.;    cloth,   (1.00.) 

"  It  is  one  of  the  charms  of  Mr.  Lathrop's  style  that  it  appeals  to 
the  imagination  of  the  reader  by  a  delicate  suggestiveness,  which 
lies  like  a  fine  atmosphere  over  the  landscape  of  the  story.  His 
novels  have  the  refinement  of  motive  which  characterize  the  analytical 
school,  but  his  manner  is  far  more  direct  and  dramatic." — The 
Christian  Union. 

Brander  Matthews. 

THE  SECRET  OF  THE  SEA,  and  Other  Stories.  (l2mo,  paper,  50  cts.; 
cloth,  $1.00)— THE  LAST  MEETING.  (l2mo,  p=per,  50  cts  ;  clolh,  $1.00)— 
IN   PARTNERSHIP.     With  H.  C.  Bunner  (l2mo.  paper,  50  cts.;   cloth,  $1.00). 

"  Mr.  Matthews  is  a  man  of  wide  observation  and  of  much 
familiarity  with  the  world.  His  literary  style  is  bright  and  crisp, 
with  a  peculiar  sparkle  about  it — wit  and  humor  judiciously  mingled — 
which  renders  his  pages  more  than  ordinarily  interesting." — The 
Rochester  Post-Express. 

Donald  G.  Mitchell. 

DR.  JOHNS.     d2mo,  $1.25.) 

"  The  author  finds  scenes  and  characters  enough  in  a  single  parish 
to  furnish  the  staple  of  the  book.  There  are  capital  descriptions  of 
parish  life,  home  scenes,  love-making,  hard  cases,  and  saintly  men 
and  women,  their  ways,  habits  ;  in  short,  all  the  warp  and  woof 
going  to  make  the  texture  of  this  isolated  rural  life.  There  are  few 
writers  in  this  country  who  have  ever  surpassed  the  author  in  the 
description  of  rural  New  England  life." — The  San  Francisco 
Bulletin. 

Fit^-James  O'Brien. 

THE  DIAMOND  LENS,  with  Other  Stories.  (l2mo,  paper,  50  cts.;  cloth, 
$1.00.) 

"These  stories  are  the  only  things  in  literature  to  be  compared 
with  Poe's  works,  and  if  they  do  not  equal  it  in  workmanship,  they 
certair'1y  do  not  yield  to  it  in  originality." —  The  Philadelphia  Record. 


SCRIBIVER'S    BRIEF    LIST    OF    FICTION.  7 

Thomas  Nelson  Page. 

IN  OLE  VIRGINIA—  MARSE  CHAN,  and  Other  Stories.     (l2mo,  $1.25.) 

"  There  are  qualities  in  these  stories  of  Mr.  Page  which  we  do 
not  find  in  those  of  any  other  Southern  author,  or  not  to  the  same 
extent  and  in  the  same  force — and  they  are  the  qualities  which  are 
too  often  wanting  in  modern  literature." — JV.  Y.  Mail  and  Express. 

Howard  Pyle. 

WITH  N  THE  CAPES.     <l2mo,  $1.00.) 

"  Simplicity,  earnestness,  and  directness  are  the  appropriate 
qualities  of  a  tale  supposed  to  be  reeled  by  an  old  sea  captain  as  he 
sits  by  the  chimney  corner,  stranded  in  a  happy  old  age.  The  yarn 
proves  to  possess  all  the  wonderful  elements  of  romance  and  adven- 
ture."—  The  Boston  Journal. 

Saxe  Holm's  Stories. 

FIRST    SERIES—  Draxy   Miller's    Dowry— The    Elder's   Wife— Whose   Wife 
Was  She? — The  One-Legged  Dancers— How  One  Woman  Kept  Her  Husband 
—  Esther  Wynn's  Love  Letters. 
SECOND   SERIES.— Four-Leaved    Clover— Farmer    Bassett's    Romance— My 
Tourmalene — Jo;  Hale's  Red  Stocking — Susan  Lawton's  Escape. 
Each,  i2ino,  paper,  jo  cts.;  cloth,   %i.oo. 
"Saxe  Holm's'  characters  arc  strongly  drawn,  and  she  goes  right  to 
the  heart  of  human   experience   as  one  who   knows   the  way.     We 
heartily  commend    them   as   vigorous,  wholesome,    and    sufficiently 
exciting  stories." — The  Advance, 

Julia  Schayer. 

TIGER  LILY,  and  Other  Stories.     (!2mo,  $1.00.) 

"  Each  of  the  fine  short  stories  in  the  present  collection  is  original 
in  subject  and  unique  in  treatment,  and  the  story  of  '  Tiger  Lily  '  is, 
in  its  way,  short  as  it  is,  a  masterpiece." — The  Critic. 

Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 

STRANGE  CASE  OF  DR.  JEKYLL  AND  MR.  HVDE.  (l2mo,  paper,  25 
cts.;  cloth,  $1.00)— KIDNAPPED.  (l2mo,  paper,  50  cts.;  cloth,  $1.00, 
illustrated,  $1.25)— THE  MERRY  MEN,  and  Other  Tales  and  Fables.  (!2mo, 
paper,  35  cts.;  cloth,  $1.00)— NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS.  (l2mo,  paper, 
30  cts.;  cloth,  $1.00)— THE  DYNAMITER.  With  Mrs.  Stevenson  (l2mo, 
paper,  30  cts.;    cloth,   $1.00). 

"If  there  is  any  writer  of  the  time  about  whom  the  critics  of 
England  and  America  substantially  agree  it  is  Mr.  Robert  Louis 
Stevenson.  There  is  something  in  his  work,  precisely  what,  it  is 
not  easy  to  say,  which  engages  and  fixes  the  attention  from  the  first 
page  to  the  last,  which  shapes  itself  before  the  mind'?  eye  while 
reading,  and  which  refuses  to  be  forgotten  long  after  the  bonk  wMch 
revealed  it  has  been  closed  and  put  away." — The  Ne-w  Yori- M*il 
and  Express. 


SCRIBNER'S    BRIEF    LIST    OF    FICTION 


/.  S.,  of  Dale. 

GUERNDALE.  (l2mo.  paper,  50  cts.:  cloth,  $1.25)— THE  CRIME  OF  HENRY 
VANE.  U2mo.  $1.00)— THE  SENTIMENTAL  CALENDAR.  Head  Pieces 
by  F.  G.  Attwood  (l2mo.  $2.00).' 

"The  author  of  that  very  bright,  witty,  and  audacious  story, 
'Guerndale,'  has  written  another,  'The  Crime  of  Henry  Vane,' 
which  is  just  as  witty  in  many  of  its  chapters  and  has  more  of  a 
'  purpose'  in  its  whole  structure.  No  young  novelist  in  this  country 
seems  better  equipped  than  Mr.  Stimson  is.  He  shows  unusual  gifts 
in  this  and  in  his  other  stories." — The  Philadelphia  Bull  tin. 

Frank  R.  Stockton. 

RUDDER  GRANGE.    (l2mo,  paper,  60  cts.;  cloth,  $1.25;   illustrated  by  A.  B. 

Frost,   Sq.  l2mo,  $2.00i— THE    LATE    MRS.    NULL.      (l2mo.    $1.25)—  THE 

LADY,  OR  THE  TIGER?  and  Other  Stories.     (l2mo,  paper,  50  cts.;   cloth. 

$1.25)— THE  CHRISTMAS  WRECK,  and  Other  Stories.     il2mo,  paper,  50 

cts.;    cloth,    SI  25)— THE    BEE-MAN    OF   ORN.    and    Other  Fanciful    lales. 

(l2mo,  cloth,  $1.25)— AMOS  KILBRIGHT,  and  Other  Stories.    (l2mo,  paper, 

50  cts.;  cloth,  $1.25.) 

"  Of  Mr.    Stockton's  stories  what  is  there  to  say,  but  that   they 

are  an  unmixed  blessing  and  delight  ?     He  is  surely  one  of  the  most 

inventive  of  talents,  discovering  not  only  a  new  kind  in  humor  and 

fancy,  but  accumulating  an  inexhaustible  wealth  of  details  in  «  ach 

fresh  achievement,  the  least  of  which  would  be  riches  from  ano.hcr 

hand." — W.  D.  HOWELLS,  in  Harpers  Magazine. 

Stories  by  American  Authors. 

Cloth,  i6mo,  joe.  each  ;  set,  io  vols.,  %j.oo;  cabinet  ed.,  in  sets  only,  $7.  jo. 
Circulars  describing  the  series  sent  on  application  to  the  publishers 

"  The  public  ought  to  appreciate  the  value  of  this  series,  which 
is  preserving  permanently  in  American  literature  short  stories  that 
have  contributed  to  its  advancement.  American  writers  lead  all 
otheis  in  this  form  of  fiction,  and  their  best  work  appears  in  these 
volumes." — The  Boston  Globe. 

T.  R.  Sullivan. 

ROSES  OF  SHADOW.     (l2mo,  $1.00.) 

"  The  characters  of  the  story  have  a  remarkable  vividness  and 
individuality — every  one  of  them — which  mark  at  oace  Mr.  Sullivan's 
strongest  promise  as  a  novelist.  All  of  his  men  are  excellent.  John 
Musgrove,  the  grimly  pathetic  old  beau,  sometimes  reminds  us  of  a 
touch  of  Thackeray." — The  Cincinnati  Times-Star. 

John  T.  Wheelwright. 

A  CHILD  OF  THE  CENTURY.     (l2mo,  paper,  50  cts.;    cloth,  $1.00.) 

"  This  is  one  of  the  most  thoroughly  enjoyable  novels  that  has 
been  published  for  a  long  time.  It  is  a  story  of  to-day,  of  American 
life  and  character  :  a  typical  story  of  political  and  social  life,  free 
from  cynicism  or  morbid  realism,  and  brimming  over  with  good- 
natured  fun,  which  is  never  vulgar. " —  The  Christian  at  Work. 


